An Opportunity Presents Itself
by CocoaB
Summary: In a desperate bid to be seen as the warrior he knows he truly is, Legolas takes advantage when a chance to prove himself comes his way.
1. Chapter 1

This is my take on the meeting of Legolas and Aragorn and is, of course, AU.

Thanks again to my wonderful, fantastic, patient and understanding beta Sarah. I wouldn't be doing this without her!

Chapter 1

List of Characters:

Galvreth – Thranduil's closest advisor and friend

Ivran – Legolas's oldest brother, the Crown Prince of Mirkwood

Ellarian – Legolas's middle brother

Tathar – Mirkwood's greatest archer, set to compete in an archery contest that takes place every 100 years in Imladris

Legolas's face, as he strode from his father's study, was whiter than the paper Galvreth held in his hand. Stark white. The prince ignored his father's seneschal and brushed angrily past the guard who had inadvertently strayed into his path while he made for the main hallway, leading to the outside. Galvreth felt certain he would not be seeing the _penneth_ again before evening. He struggled to suppress his own anger, his imagination filling in what had likely just transpired between father and son – nay - what had transpired had been between King and subject, Galvreth felt certain, when it should have been between father and son.

He clenched his teeth, grinding out his anger, knowing full well that he needed to hold a discussion at once with his sire and it would not due to show Thranduil just how wrong he thought the king was – many millennia working with his sovereign and his friend had taught him that. Legolas had been forthright and emphatic in his pleading, Galvreth was certain. He had also, no doubt, lost his temper when his request had been summarily denied and from that point on, his had been a lost cause.

Galvreth would not make that same mistake. He would show proper deference, he promised himself. He would come at this with such cleverness and brilliance that his old friend would have no idea what had happened to him. He would be agreeing to all of Legolas's requests, by the time Galvreth was done with him. The king's advisor was confident in his diplomatic skills as he entered the king's study.

Seconds later, he was feeling decidedly less optimistic. Two sharp eyes flicked up to greet him, the king giving him but a perfunctory nod of the head as he entered. "I care not what you have to say on the subject, Galvreth," he snapped in lieu of a greeting. "He isn't going and that is my final word." Galvreth stifled a sigh, recognizing that no clever device or confusion would win Legolas what he desired and, most assuredly, deserved. His disappointment soon turned to anger though as the king returned his attention once more to his papers, considering the matter dealt with, wholly oblivious both to the heartache that he had just caused his youngest child and to the potential danger that aching heart might spark, as well. It was enough to make Galvreth less than patient with his sovereign and, unfortunately less than in control of his emotions, or his tongue.

"You are making a mistake, my lord," he exclaimed, forgetting his resolve to remain careful and cautious. "There is no reason why he shouldn't attend the contest." He at once bit his lower lip in dismay. _That_ was a mistake. No, that was a _disaster_, he knew at once as Thranduil looked up from his work, his face completely shorn of emotion. Galvreth knew from great and grave experience that behind the blank face and narrowed eyes, anger burned. Legolas must have been unusually forceful in his request, which, in the king's eyes would have been viewed as being wilful and insolent.

"I do not require a reason in order for my son to do my bidding," Thranduil answered, sharply.

Galvreth at once dropped his head and murmured, "Forgive me sire. It was not my intention to interfere." A blatant lie, of course and the king was not in the least bit deceived. A soft grunt greeted the seneschal's ears and he raised his head again to find the king settled back in his chair, fingers tented before him, openly observing his advisor and old friend.

"Of course not, my dear Galvreth," he said at last "You never intend to interfere in matters where you do not belong but for some reason, unbeknownst to myself, you have never considered Legolas to be one of them. Though I do not require reasons for any of my sons to do my bidding, I recognize that my youngest has long been your favourite and if I must give you reasons in order for you to leave this subject without my having to resort to angering you and then have to deal with your sulking for the remainder of the day then please, allow me to present you with a few."

The king waved a hand at the chair drawn up close to the desk. Its match lay toppled over on its side and Galvreth could only imagine the force required to send the heavy chair to its present position. He forced his attention away and to his own proffered seat, taking it while he attempted to draw his composure around him once more, reminding himself how important this conversation was and how it would not help for him to lose control as the occupant of that other chair most assuredly had.

"Legolas has never in his life participated in a competition of this sort," the king began, his words measured and seemingly without emotion, though Galvreth knew better, recognizing the tension beneath the seeming calm. "And he would be representing Mirkwood, if he were to participate, even more so than Tathar will be, as he is my son. I will not subject myself, or my kingdom to ridicule because, in order to placate a spoiled and selfish Princeling, I allowed him to compete in a contest that should be attended by only the greatest proven archers in Middle Earth, a contest that I need not mention, Mirkwood has not won once in all of the centuries that we have participated, a situation I intend to have rectified this year. No. I will not even begin to entertain such a ridiculous request."

Galvreth's mouth had dropped open in surprise and confusion as the king spoke. "My lord," he stammered. "I do not understand. I cannot imagine that Legolas would ask for such a thing. He would not dare. In fact, I am quite certain he asked only to be allowed to attend. Why did you hear otherwise?"

It was Thranduil's turn to look surprised and he drew further back into his chair as if to escape Galvreth's questing gaze, his forehead creasing in a frown. "Well, I, don't know…" But it was obvious, as his mind feverishly tried to remember the precise words that his son had used, words that had clearly not been listened to, the moment that the king realised his error. His frown deepened and his gaze hardened. He must have anticipated the meeting that had just occurred and had had his own ideas of what his son would ask for. Ready and waiting with a speech, no doubt a scathing speech about duty and respect and the necessity of holding one's tongue in order to be able to accomplish both, he had not heard a word his child had spoken. No wonder Legolas had reacted as strongly as he had.

"It matters not what he asked!" Thranduil barked, in reply, recovering swiftly. "He still is not going. He will travel to Imladris for the first time at my side, on matters serving the realm, not with his brother to attend a mere archery competition. He has work to do here in Ellarian's absence. I cannot have both of them away. And if that is not reason enough for you, I hardly believe that I should condone or reward his behaviour just now by allowing him to do what he desires. That chair that you are trying so hard to pretend you do not see was knocked over in a fit of childish temper."

"You drive him to it, Thranduil…" Galvreth exclaimed, choking back his words as once more his good sense chased his traitorous tongue in a losing battle for control. He steadied himself and drew a sharp breath ere allowing himself to speak again. "You do not treat him as you treat his brothers," he said, this time managing to keep his voice even. "You do not allow him to train as a warrior. It is what he most desires and you ignore that wish."

"Again with what Legolas desires!" Thranduil shot to the edge of his seat and leaned over the desk laying his hands flat on its surface. "He is spoiled, Galvreth, and I see why, as it appears that my entire household indulges him. He is my son, and as my son, he has responsibilities, duties that he will honour. It is not a choice, it is what it is."

"But Ivran and Ellarian are allowed to take up arms in the defence of their land…"

"Allowed to - !" Thranduil thundered, taking to his feet this time, both hands still resting on the desk as he leaned across to glare at Galvreth. "They are warriors through necessity not because they choose to be. I send them to fight and to suffer and to die - yes _die_ Galvreth – I had four sons, remember – and not because I wish to, or because they desire it, but because I must. I have given three sons to fight the shadow. And I have lost a wife to that same shadow. Is that not enough?"

Galvreth bowed his head and closed his eyes, sighing inwardly. "Yes, my lord. You have lost much." He swallowed heavily, hearing plainly the grief that laced the king's words, fighting the grief within his own heart – Thranduil's suffering had been his, as well. He loved the king's family as his own. He raised his head again and drew a deep breath, marshalling his strength. There was more that needed to be said or grief would not end there.

"Yes, my lord, you have lost much," he repeated, solemnly. "But you will lose even more if you do not listen to me, sire. You know I speak only out of love." He waited for Thranduil to retreat, stiffly, back into his seat, before continuing, knowing that he hadn't much time before the king silenced him permanently on the subject. "I do understand, my lord. But you cannot deny what is in one's heart either. Legolas is no politician. He can hardly bear to be indoors for a day, much less the weeks and months required for studying and learning. He cannot abide being held in Council sessions, or pouring over ledgers and trade agreements, day in and day out. You do not force any of your subjects to go where they do not wish to go, to do what they are uncomfortable with doing, within reason. Why do you treat Legolas differently?"

"Because _I _know what is best for Legolas," Thranduil snapped, gripping the arms of the chair with such force that Galvreth could hear the groan of the wood beneath the king's fierce grasp. "Not Legolas. He is young. He does not know what he wants or, more importantly, what he needs. He does not know what he is suited for." He relaxed his hold on the chair but the strain was still evident in the harsh rasp of his voice. "Legolas has not the qualities of a leader and no son of mine will serve as a mere soldier."

"Legolas could learn to lead, just as Ellarian has learned. He did not slip easily into that role when he came of age. But you sent him to serve, my lord, and he has done so with honour and distinction."

"No, Legolas is not Ellarian. He has not a soldier's character. I know my son."

It was all Galvreth could do to keep from snorting. Those words would have been true when Legolas was small, surely. But these last years, his sire had drowned his sorrow over the loss of his wife and son in work and wine. He hadn't time for his remaining children, other than moving them around like pawns in a game, giving them duties that kept them equally as ever occupied as the king, allowing them precious little time to think about their losses, or to ask after his. Dinners that had once been wonderful affairs, full of laughter and story-telling, sharing of the day's events and never missed without proven and good cause had become silent, torturous proceedings, attended only when unavoidable, with absences rarely questioned by the head of the table, if he, himself, managed to show. The king had left Legolas's upbringing almost exclusively in Galvreth's hands; a shame, as the two had always been close. The withdrawal of his _adar's_ attention had been almost as crushing to the young prince as the loss of his _naneth_.

It was Galvreth's turn to lean forward as he stated, "He is quiet because he has no confidence in his skills. But he should. He is uncomfortable around others because he spends so little time with them. You have him studying or working with me for hours on end. Do you know what he does when he finishes here in the palace? He does not visit with friends or do the things that other Elves his age do. Instead he goes at once to the practice fields where he spends untold hours, far into the night, sometimes all night, doing what he loves and what is truly part of him. I have seen him draw his bow again and again until his fingers have bled. And his practice has paid off. He far surpasses his brothers - nay - all of Mirkwood, I would wager, with his ability. And as if that were not enough, he is on a par with Ellarian when it comes to wielding those long knives of his and fast moving up on Ivran who is many millennia older than he. Do you even know this?"

"Of course I do," the king snapped. "I know everything about him." Which of course, he did not. Not any longer.

"You know nothing of him if you insist upon this course of action," Galvreth warned. In his desperation, the King's advisor placed his hands on the desk, mimicking Thranduil's posture of moments before. His eyes captured his friend's and he did not flinch away from that ice-cold gaze. "I think, perhaps, that you _do_ know these facts about your son. Why else would you have confused Legolas's request? Because you know that he deserves what he does not even ask for. He is your greatest archer, my king. He _should_ be representing Mirkwood in this contest. He could be among your greatest captains, if you would only give him the chance." Thranduil said nothing, appearing to be at least contemplating his seneschal's words.

Galvreth cocked his head, taking advantage of the king's silence. "There are other reasons at play for why you refuse him," he said, gently. "What are they, I wonder? Fear that something will happen to him, perhaps? It is a valid fear. The lives of our soldiers hang by a thread. And you have lost much, I know. To lose your youngest, most precious child would be catastrophic. Legolas has a special light, a special place in all of our hearts, as well. Yet, I fear that light will fade, my king, if you continue to protect him. He is a warrior, Thranduil. He has the skills and temperament of a great one. He is quiet and submissive, to your eyes, doing what you demand of him. But I see him, where you do not. Boiling under the surface is frustration and resentment. His frustration will become anger if you force him to be what he is not. And he is _not_ a scholar or a scribe."

"I am _not_ training him to be a scribe!" Thranduil shot back, suddenly furious, slamming his hand onto the desk with a crash, whatever contemplative mood he had been under, vanquished. "He is to advise his brother. I can think of no greater task to give a subject than to be the right arm of a king, one that the king relies and depends on to support him in all matters. _You,_ as my closest advisor, would be wise to remember that!"

Galvreth knew he was treading dangerous waters and at once bowed his head, deferentially. Thranduil sniffed in acceptance of the action, his anger only slightly assuaged. But Galvreth knew that he yet held the king's interest, if only for a moment and he pressed forward, understanding that he needed to plead Legolas's case for the _penneth_ would not have another chance for centuries to come, if Galvreth failed now, centuries that the prince might not be willing, or able, to give.

"I remember my duty, my lord and I am attempting to perform it. I am indeed your advisor, and an advisor offers advice. It is my job to tell His Majesty when I believe he is making a mistake, even when such advice is unwelcome and certainly when the end result could be tragic."

"You are being melodramatic, Galvreth," the king snorted, choosing to make light of Galvreth's arguments, using a convenient and quite effective tactic for ending a discussion short of commanding it closed. "Come now! Tragic? Legolas may be chafing at his bit, somewhat – I will agree with you there. He is young. Of course he is desirous of adventure. But that will fade with time. Perhaps I will take him with me to Laketown the next time I go," he said, his mood suddenly lightening as he recognized a possible solution to his problem that he could live with. "Not this time, of course, for I will be gone far too long with the trip to Dorwinion to make, as well. But the next trip, surely. That will give him a chance to get out of the palace. Have a little adventure…"

"He does not need a 'little adventure', Thranduil," Galvreth interrupted, before the king went any further down this wholly inadequate and erroneous path. "I am not talking about an energetic Elfling who needs to sow wild oats. I am talking about an _Ellon_ who needs to set a path for himself, one that he can dedicate himself to, something he can work towards and be proud of. If you do not allow him this, his desire for adventure will not be the only thing that fades with time!"

"Again, Galvreth with the histrionics," Thranduil stated, waving his hand dismissively. "It matters not to me what Legolas wants or doesn't want. He is my son and he will damn well do his duty. And his duty is mine to determine, mine to command. We have work to do, today. Real work. Let us get to it."

And at that, the conversation was over. But Galvreth knew, deep in his heart, that it was truly only the beginning. There was a rude awakening for all to come, of that he was certain and it was only a question of how long it would be to the awakening and the degree of rudeness to be experienced.

Dictionary:

_Penneth _– young one

_Naneth _- mother

_Adar _- father

_Ellith _– female Elf, plural

_Ellon_ – male Elf, singular


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Standard disclaimer – not mine, no money, just for fun

Thanks to my wonderful beta Sarah - I cannot thank her enough for her hard work and patience and to think, she does it all for free! Unbelievable.

List of Characters:

Galvreth – Thranduil's closest advisor and friend

Ivran – Legolas's oldest brother, the Crown Prince of Mirkwood

Ellarian – Legolas's middle brother

Tûrin – Captain of the Mirkwood Home Guard and friend of Legolas

Rissien – Lieutenant of the Mirkwood Home Guard and friend of Legolas

Tathar – Mirkwood's greatest archer, set to compete in an archery contest that takes place every 100 years in Imladris

~*~

The days after Thranduil's departure for Laketown and Dorwinion had been quiet, with preparations for the forthcoming journey to Imladris taking centre stage. Legolas could not hide his excitement from his brother, even though he, himself, would not be going. He knew that Ellarian would have taken him, if he could. But Thranduil had informed his second son, in no uncertain terms, that Legolas was to remain in Mirkwood. "He said I was to stop encouraging you," his brother said as they sat together, enjoying the sunshine in the garden near the front gates. "I was to make sure you knew how fortunate you are to be in training to take over Galvreth's position so that when _Adar_ travelled, Galvreth would be able to go with him. I am so sorry, 'Las. He is convinced that you would make a great advisor to Ivran."

"Scribe," Legolas had snorted, in response. "Not advisor. Ivran will never heed any counsel I might give him. It is daft to even think so. I am and will always be, his baby brother."

Their conversation had only further served to darken Legolas's mood. And as if that had not been enough, Ellarian had chosen to show his sympathy by ruffling his little brother's golden head, yanking on one of the warrior braids that Legolas had woven into his hair the moment his _adar_ was past the front gates. "Ellarian! I am not an Elfling!" he cried, angrily pulling away.

"I am sorry, brat," Ellarian answered, pulling his hand away, immediately chastened. "I know you are not." Suddenly serious, Ellarian turned to face him on their shared bench and placed his hand on his brother's slender shoulder, holding tight as he leaned his dark head close, capturing Legolas's eyes with his own. "I will always want to protect you; I would be lying if I said otherwise. But know this: I will support you as you seek to take your rightful place in the kingdom. You have earned that chance." A wistful smile touched his lips then and he said, "Just let me tousle your head, occasionally so I can remember that I am your big brother and you are and will always be my little one. Please?" Legolas could hardly refuse such a plea and bowed in Ellarian's direction, offering up the top of his head, as he did.

"Very well," he sighed. "Tousle at will." Ellarian instead, smoothed his hand over the hair he had just ruffled and pulled his brother close, placing a kiss to the golden plaits. The gesture vanquished Legolas's dark mood as he rested his cheek against the broad chest, remembering the times, years ago, when he had clambered up onto his brother's lap and sat this very way, seeking comfort from the one who was always there for him, no matter what awful thing he had done, how late in the evening it might be, or whether Ellarian had something else to do. After his _naneth's_ death, it had been Ellarian's arms that had held him close, Ellarian's voice singing him to sleep at night when all others in his life had been so buried in their own grief that he had been otherwise left to struggle alone through the darkness that his childhood had suddenly become.

At last, Ellarian released him and relaxed against the bark of the beech tree they sat beneath. Looking around the sunny garden, he sighed, "What a beautiful day it is!" Legolas relaxed too and they sat shoulder-to-shoulder enjoying the brightly shining sun and soft breeze that had drawn them out into the garden in the first place. It would not be long, though, before Ivran would return from his trip to check conditions in the outer villages where recent heavy rains had threatened flooding. Once he arrived, Ellarian and his small band of Elves, set to accompany Tathar the archer, would be off for Imladris and Legolas would again be banished to the library with Galvreth. The dark mood threatened anew. Try as he might, he could not stifle the almost painful desire to be off with Ellarian on this adventure - for adventure it most assuredly would be.

He knew well the other attendees, Tûrin and Rissien. They were Ellarian's friends but as Legolas had, from a young age, acted with a maturity far beyond his years, they had long allowed him to participate in their activities, treating him with respect and acceptance. Their consideration for him had only grown since the loss of his mother had sent him careening into adulthood long before his time. He had spent the years since her death pulling himself more tightly into a cocoon of solitude, encouraged by the lack of time he was able to spend with others his own age. Hours alone were dedicated to practicing with weapons, sword and knives and, of course, his bow. His brother's friend's respect for his skill and talent had grown along with their friendship and he was now accepted as an equal, something which had helped him keep his sanity in the unending hours he spent playing clerk for Ivran and Galvreth.

Galvreth. He glanced over at his father's seneschal who was enjoying his own peaceful interlude in the garden, stretched out under a nearby oak. Both were playing truant from Legolas's studies – the weather was just too beautiful to ignore after the last many weeks of unrelenting rain. He knew the advisor's hours would be easier during his father's absence and he was happy for it. His teacher had tried to secure him a place with the group going to Imladris but had failed miserably, to use Galvreth's own words. That he had tried had been enough though. It gave Legolas a deep sense of pride that others at least had faith in his skill and ability. It gave him the tiniest glimmer of hope, too, that one day he could make his father see what others saw in him though as the years wore on, the glimmer had begun to fade, and he struggled mightily against despair. He could not be what his father wanted him to be and it would take a miracle for his _adar_ to see otherwise.

Shouts at the front gates alerted him to the arrival of Ivran. Legolas and Ellarian both leapt to their feet at the sounds. Ellarian headed off toward the gate at a trot while Legolas announced his intentions to Glavreth, waiting for his teacher to raise his head and give a lethargic nod of approval before following after his brother. A knot of soldiers stood at the gate, Ellarian's dark head bowed before them as he listened to one of them. The Elf doing the talking was agitated, pointing and waving back toward the gate. Ivran was nowhere to be found which hastened Legolas's steps, his chest tightening painfully with fear. He joined the group in time to hear Ellarian announce that the Home Guard was to be summoned. In quieter tones he turned to one of his lieutenants and said, "Send a rider out after Ivran. I cannot wait for his return. Legolas will be in charge until he arrives."

His brother turned to face him, giving him a quick wink. He must know that Ivran was not far away to even joke about such a thing - their father would kill him if he thought that Legolas had been left in charge of anything other than, perhaps, the library. But Legolas appreciated the ruse. The soldier had not caught the wink, instead bestowing a deep bow that took in both princes before turning on his heel and hurrying away.

"What has happened?" Legolas asked, his eyes following the already swiftly forming ranks of warriors in the square in front of the stables.

"A horde of Orcs was seen at the border near some of the southern settlements. The Guard there needs reinforcement. We'll make fast work of them, have no fear." Ellarian, too, observed the flurry of activity before them but kept his mind still on his brother. "I wish I could take you with me, brat. I can't tell you how much I would like to have your fine bow work beside me. I can't say that I wouldn't worry every moment that you are by my side, either. I sympathize with Ada in that respect, for it would be the most difficult thing I have ever done to send you into battle. But he is wrong not to give you the chance. Trust me, little brother; between Galvreth and myself, we will change him. You must be patient and not despair."

"If only I could believe that you could…"

"Trust me," Ellarian smiled as he reached up to tousle his brother's hair again. This time Legolas managed to duck away from the questing hand. "No, you're right," Ellarian laughed. "Not at all how one should treat the acting head of Mirkwood." Instead he grabbed hold and squeezed one slender shoulder. Legolas returned the smile, disappointment now crowded out by worry for his brother. Though centuries still separated them, Ellarian had always been young at heart and more than understanding of Legolas's predicament, leading Legolas to wonder if perhaps he had had a taste of Thranduil's hovering as he had been the youngest of three for a time until Legolas had come along. The hand on his shoulder pulled him into a brief hug.

"Stay safe, Ellarian. Please?" Legolas entreated, as he clasped his brother tightly to his chest.

"Have no fear for me, brat. _Yrch_ scatter in fear before my sword! I'll be back before you know it. And then I will keep you company since I'll have missed my trip to Imladris. With Ada gone, I'm sure Galvreth will let me steal you away from time to time and we'll have some fun, even if Tûrin and Rissien aren't with us. We won't let them be the only ones with stories to tell on their return – I'll see to that!" He pulled away, reached up as if he might try once again to ruffle his little brother's hair but caught himself and instead, dropped the wayward hand to his chest in a formal salute, bowing regally to the soon to be reigning Prince. "Be good, brat." In less than an hour, the entourage was gone, a thick cloud of dust the only evidence of their passing.

"My lord?"

It took Legolas a long moment and several repetitions of the words before he realized that the guard was speaking to him.

"Yes?" he said, drawing himself up.

"Shall we close the gate?"

"Of course. Yes." He stepped back into the palace grounds so the heavy gate could close. My lord! He was in charge. For perhaps an hour or two, if he judged Ivran's arrival time correctly. But it would likely be the most power he would have for the next several centuries and he decided to take advantage. He turned on his heel and approached his still napping teacher.

"Galvreth?"

"Mmf," the older Elf mumbled.

"You may take the rest of the afternoon off. Go, read a book, visit friends, or just sleep under that tree if you want."

"Hmm?"

"As I am in charge, I say this is a day of rest."

"In charge? You? Of what?" Galvreth said, his eyes at last blinking off the haze of sleep.

"Why, Mirkwood, of course."

"Mirkwood."

"Well, the palace, that is." I'm certain that wherever Ivran is right now, he is in charge of there. And Ellarian is certainly on his way to being in charge of the Orcs in the South. And Ada is of course in charge of anything within a hundred leagues of wherever he is right now. But I have the palace and as you and I are both in it, I say we get the day off."

"I like it when you are in charge, young Legolas," Galvreth murmured. "And if I had a vote in it, I would put you in charge more often." His eyes immediately glazed over in sleep, once more and a gentle snoring began to issue from his lips. It wasn't possible that anyone could fall asleep that quickly but Legolas took his dismissal for what it was and headed at once for the archery fields. It wasn't everyday that he could spend an entire afternoon at the fields and he was practically jogging by the time he arrived there. His happiness however was brought up short as he discovered the fields full with a complement of young trainees. They were his age mates and he should feel comfortable with joining them but his father had removed him from this very group long ago, saying that they were training to be warriors and his lot would be different – he needed to spend his time in the library and in court, preparing to be an advisor to Ivran. No amount of begging on his part had changed those dreaded words and he had, in fact, spent many a hungry night in his room - punishment for his insolent tongue.

Those Elves that had been his friends had been hurt by his absence and those that had not, had cheered to see him go. They had all felt that he had been given special treatment, released from an arduous duty and dangerous future and resentment had clouded any meeting between them, since. Strange, that they felt that way when he looked upon it as a torture and a punishment. With a heavy heart, Legolas turned away from the practice fields. He would be faced with far too many questions if he attempted to join the group now and at any time, his brother might arrive and force him back to Galvreth and the library. That would be truly embarrassing if it were done in front of the others – there were times when Ivran could be all too much like their _adar_. He trudged down the path, wondering what he might do with his gift of free time. Two arms grabbed him, one from each side.

"Hail, my liege! Where go you?" A slender, dark-haired Elf asked from his right. "I can't believe you would not take these precious moments when you are the king of all you survey and spend it shooting arrows?"

"Yes, 'Las – you are going in the wrong direction," The Elf to his left, a shorter, sturdier version of the first said, taking the arm he held and spinning Legolas back around and once again toward the practice fields.

"I have other duties to attend to, Rissien," Legolas stammered, not anxious to explain why he was leaving his beloved practice fields so hurriedly. "I – I –"

"Nonsense," the first Elf interrupted. "You are in charge, or so I heard. You can shoot arrows in the throne room if you so desire."

"Don't give him any ideas Tûrin," Rissien cautioned. "I would not put it past him to do such a thing and then it would be our jobs on the line once his _adar_ found out. And he would find out. I know how much you enjoy your position as captain and I have no desire to give up my job as lieutenant to wash dishes for the next thousand years or so."

"Aye and we would be to blame, you and I, though I can't imagine why Thranduil thinks we have any control over you, 'Las, even though we are your seniors and your betters," Tûrin teased.

"Betters!" Legolas cried, stopping in his tracks to glare at his friends.

"Yes betters," Rissien laughed, tugging on the arm he still clutched. "Come. You need to practice, _mellon_ _nîn_. Even though your _adar_ is protective, there must be at least a slight chance that you will be the one defending us on this trip, now that Ellarian has been called away, surely."

"What?"

"But of course," Tûrin said. "Who else would go? Ivran? I think not. That would leave you in charge of Mirkwood and I don't think Mirkwood is quite ready for that, do you? At least not for more than an hour or two."

"Certainly, the king would want to have the royal family represented when Mirkwood at long last trounces the rest of the Elven world," Rissien chimed in. "I hear that Glorfindel will judge this year and not compete which gives someone else a chance, for a change."

"Well, I…"

"What I can't understand, 'Las," Tûrin continued. "Is why your _adar_ wouldn't let you compete? If he wanted to win so badly, that would be the one sure way to guarantee it. But I think Tathar has a good chance, too."

"Was it because he was afraid you wouldn't win?" Rissien said, stopping them at the edge of the archery field. "I mean, he seldom if ever watches you practice. Perhaps he just doesn't realize how good you have become." Both Elves were watching Legolas, earnestly. He realized then just how much their personal family business stayed their personal family business – Ellarian had obviously not shared with his friends just how strongly Thranduil felt about Legolas leaving the safety of the palace and the surrounding area. Nor did they realize that his _adar_ had probably not watched him practice once in the last decade. He opened his mouth to answer but thought better of it. If Ellarian had not shared any of the trials and hardships of his personal life then Legolas wouldn't either.

He was saved answering by another shout and flurry of activity once again at the palace gates. All three Elves hurried up the path, arriving in time to see Ivran dismount. He caught sight of Legolas and crossed the space between them in three large strides. He lifted his brother right off of the ground in his strong grasp, hugging him hard to his chest.

"There you are, brat!" he laughed as he dropped Legolas back to his feet. "I hear you are in charge!"

"True. And whatever dignity I might have had in that role has surely been set back a decade, brother mine. I am not an Elfling to be ruffled or slung about."

"No, my lord," Ivran said, good naturedly, stepping back and looking his brother over. "No longer an Elfling." Some emotion that Legolas could not pinpoint passed across Ivran's face as he continued to gaze at his brother. "Have I been gone so long?" he mused.

"What do you say?" Legolas chuckled. "You look as if I'd grown another head."

"I was thinking another inch, perhaps," Ivran answered, cocking his head to one side and stroking his chin.

"You are bemused, Ivran. What has happened to you?"

His brother laughed and shrugged. "Nothing. 'Tis nothing. You are just growing up, that is all and I hadn't noticed. I should have." He nodded at the other two Elves standing one each at Legolas's side. "And are you two packed and ready to go? It is high time, I think."

"Aye, my lord, we are. By your leave."

"Yes, yes. You have it. Go and be safe. I will come see you off within the hour."

"You are in a good mood," Legolas noted as he followed Ivran up the steps to the palace.

"Mm. Excellent mood, my brother."

"Oh? Wilwarin must have been at home this visit." Ivran's smile broadened, answering Legolas's suspicions. His brother had been courting one of the village _ellith_ with only minimal success, she having a desire to continue her job teaching and not being entirely convinced that she would make a good princess or potentially a queen one day, if their _adar_ ever decided to sail. Ivran must have managed to, at long last, convince her otherwise.

"She was, indeed," he said.

"And she must have decided to talk with you." Ivran turned, at the door.

"Yes, she did," he said, beaming.

"I am happy for you."

"Thank you. And mayhap there will be even more happiness in my future. So, come, catch me up on what is happening here. I have been gone too long."

They entered the palace and Ivran went straight for his father's study where any papers and instructions that Thranduil had set aside for his son would await. Legolas once again stood in front of that desk, casting an uneasy glance at the chair that he had so recently toppled in a fit of rage. He wondered if any of the papers that Ivran shuffled through mentioned that episode or any punishment that his _adar_ thought should be meted out to his youngest. He updated Ivran as his brother read, ending with Ellarian's trip to the South. Although he had already learned of the emergent threat and his brother's mission to quell it, Ivran gave Legolas his complete and undivided attention for that discussion.

"Well, I need to find another attendant for the Imladris trip, it appears," he said solemnly, once Legolas had finished. "A party of only three Elves would scarcely be sufficient to uphold the dignity of Mirkwood, nor for the sake of safety, either."

Legolas had no idea what came over him. Perhaps it had been the sight of that chair, still sitting askew from its mate, evidence of its rough treatment and a visible reminder of his continuing disappointment and threatening despair. Perhaps it had been the confidence that Ellarian, Rissien and Tûrin had all shown in his abilities, or maybe it was the memory of how it felt to be taunted about being given a position of safety when he wanted nothing more than to share in the dangers faced by others. It wasn't because he valued his life - that would, no doubt, be forfeit if - no, make that when - his father discovered what he was about to do. "I'm to go," he squeaked, unconvincingly to his own ears. Ivran, who had returned to browsing through the stacks of papers on the desk, glanced up at Legolas, a smile on his face.

"Come now, brat. I hardly believe Ada would allow you out of this palace for more than a few days not in his presence, much less send you on a trip to Imladris on your own."

"Well, he did," Legolas stated, this time finding his voice while fighting an urge to shift from one foot to the other as he stood before his now, very interested, brother. "As – as you said – I'm growing up and Ada apparently pays better attention than you do." All papers were forgotten as Ivran came around the desk to stand before him. Legolas wasn't much shorter than his oldest sibling but was more slightly built, only partly because of his youth and he felt small indeed as Ivran cast a critical eye up and down his lean frame.

"I am having a difficult time with this, Legolas…"

"With what, my lord," Galvreth interrupted, entering the room with a flourish, sweeping past both Elves and heading directly for the desk. He began at once to straighten the papers that Ivran had disturbed. Legolas wished at that moment a hole would form in the floor and he might be able to crawl through it. But he knew the ground was solid stone at least several feet thick and the only hole that would be forming there would be the one made by his dead body after Ivran finished hammering him into it, once he discovered his brother's falsehoods.

"With the idea that _Adar_ would allow Legolas to go to Imladris in Ellarian's place," Ivran tossed over his shoulder.

"Why would you have a difficult time with that?" Galvreth queried, without pausing for even a sharp breath or startled look. Legolas could not keep from staring past Ivran to his father's advisor, knowing as he did that Ivran still watched him closely. He decided Galvreth was merely toying with his student, punishing him for – for what? Legolas couldn't think of anything he had done lately to irritate his teacher and now, apparently, his co-conspirator. Or perhaps he was giving Legolas the chance to admit to his falsehoods, on his own, and tell the truth. His punishment would be lighter if he himself were the one to do so.

"Ivran – I – I never meant –"

"Never meant what?" his brother asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Never meant to leave you alone like this," Galvreth broke in. "He knows how much you are looking forward to having him as your advisor and now you are going to be left with only me, Valar bless you. I will try and do as good a job as the "brat" would do though I cannot hope to come close." Legolas knew his mouth had dropped open, knew it but could do nothing about it. He stared, open mouthed at his teacher. Galvreth spared him but a glance as he continued to shuffle papers around. But in that so brief a glance, there could be no mistake about it, the older Elf winked. Legolas had to bite his tongue to keep from shouting his happiness. With fortune's favour and Glavreth's support, a miracle was about to occur - he was going to Imladris.

Dictionary:

_Naneth _– mother

_Adar _– father

_Yrch _– orc

_Ellith _– female Elf, plural

_mellon nîn_ – my friend


	3. Chapter 3

Standard disclaimer – not mine, no money, just for fun

Thanks to my wonderful beta Sarah and thanks to all of you for reading and reviewing – it is fun to write but oh so much more fun if someone reads and enjoys too!

Chapter 3

List of Characters:

Galvreth – Thranduil's closest advisor and friend

Ivran – Legolas's oldest brother, the Crown Prince of Mirkwood

Ellarian – Legolas's middle brother

Tûrin – Captain of the Mirkwood Home Guard and friend of Legolas

Rissien – Lieutenant of the Mirkwood Home Guard and friend of Legolas

Tathar – Mirkwood's greatest archer, set to compete in an archery contest that takes place every 100 years in Imladris

~*~

Guilt had never sat well with Legolas. It made him feel almost physically ill. That reaction alone had been enough to make him a profoundly honest soul most of his young life. Oh, he had told the occasional white lie, usually to keep Ellarian or Tûrin or Rissien out of trouble and once in a blue moon, to save his own hide. But, for the most part, he found lying to be detestable and, more importantly, he had an almost perfect record of getting caught. His honest approach to life, truth be told, had as much to do with that unfortunate happenstance of his character as it did a queasy stomach or some higher dedication to truth seeking or honourable intent.

But it was that queasy stomach that now assailed him and kept him clinging almost violently to Harma's broad back, not fear of being found out, not yet. They were far enough from the palace that he felt confident he would not be dragged back before reaching Imladris's safe keeping. He would have plenty of time to feel fear on his way back in two weeks time. He hoped to make it before his _adar_ returned, and in fact, had every chance of doing so – the king's trip was to be an especially long one. But he could not keep from feeling a sick twist each time he thought of how he had lied to Ivran. His brother would be so disappointed in him! The trust built up over these last years, as Legolas trained to be his advisor would be tarnished, perhaps forever.

He swallowed around the lump in his throat, reminding himself that there was nothing about being an advisor to his brother that appealed to him, nothing that said that he would ever make a good one, trust or no trust. It would be better for all if Ivran realized that his faithless and witless brother was not good enough for the job and searched at once for a replacement. But of course, that would not be an option – _Adar_ would never approve of such a move and Ivran would be stuck with Legolas, as much as Legolas was trapped in his position as Ivran's advisor.

He was forced to concentrate on the precarious path that the horse's traversed. Harma, though strong and surefooted was also skittish and testy and required his constant attention, which put a stop to his wandering thoughts; a good thing given their direction. They were less than a day's ride out of Imladris and he would need to get his thoughts in order so that he would be able to act the part of royal representative and make certain that none would know that he was along under false pretences. He had already endured endless speculation from Rissien and Tûrin as to why Thranduil had, at long last, given his blessing for such a journey. Tathar had looked upon him with nothing short of suspicion, wondering, no doubt, if Legolas had an eye to taking his place as Mirkwood's representative in the archery contest. As the archer was grumpy to begin with – he hated to travel and in fact had not left the woods of Mirkwood in centuries, reputation in his own land and gossip alone establishing his position as an archer of renown – he made for a less than pleasant travelling companion.

A strange noise stopped Legolas in his tracks, ending his musing completely, only to have Rissien give Harma's backside a hard thwack while screaming at Legolas to ride on. "_Yrch_!" he shouted. "Do not stop for anything and do not look back." But Legolas found that he could not obey, fear turning his head to look behind, as he clung tightly to his galloping steed.

More than two-dozen Orcs broke cover, most on foot but a few on wargs. Their snarling mounts were fast and moved without care of any obstacle that stood in their way, crashing through bushes and heavy foliage as if it did not exist. They were not as fleet of foot as the Elven horses they pursued but neither did they have concern for pain or damaged limbs, focused solely on their prey. As a result, a few were close behind the fast moving horses.

Arrows whistled around Legolas's ears as they fled, one close enough to brush across his shoulder. He flinched with fear at how close it had come and clasped his hands tightly around Harma's neck, laying his body flat to lower his profile as much as possible. More arrows followed and at one point he was sure he heard a cry from somewhere behind him where Tathar and Rissien had positioned themselves, no doubt to protect their prince. Any anger he might have felt for their cosseting of him was lost at that moment in a wash of fear. He had no time or skill to chance a look, all of his effort required to stay on his horse and to keep from running full tilt into a tree while continuing to duck the barrage of arrows that showed no sign of abating.

"_Daro_!" He heard a shout from his side followed almost at once by a pale hand grasping at his arm, even as he flew. He dug his knees into Harma's sides. The horse reacted quickly to the pressure, slowing at once to a stop. It was Tûrin's hand on his arm; the Elf's panicked eyes trailing behind them almost as soon as they had come to a halt. Legolas turned to follow his friend's gaze.

The two horses following behind them came careening to a stop but one of the figures clinging to its mount did not – Tathar practically flew from his horse's back, landing with a resounding thud on the hard packed earth. "_Ai_!" Rissien cried as he swung from his mount. "I'll get him. You two, Go! Go!" Legolas did not miss the fierce, frightened look that Rissien flashed at Tûrin. Tûrin's hand tightened around Legolas's arm and he tugged, hard.

"Let's go, Legolas," he cried.

They were cosseting him again. If they went, they would abandon Rissien and Tathar both to the orcs. "No!" With a violent shake, he dislodged Tûrin's hand from his arm and pulled an arrow from his quiver, nocking it to his bow before the Elf could open his mouth to argue. Faster than an eye could blink, the arrow was released and a yelp could be heard in the distance as the warg, nothing more than a shadow among the trees, was felled. Another blink and another arrow was loosed, followed by yet another. Each found its mark, which had a delaying effect on the creatures following behind – wargs might have little in the way of survival instinct but the pile of dead before them became an obstacle they had to manoeuvre around and that alone slowed their frantic pace. It was enough to give Rissien time to drag an unconscious Tathar onto his horse and soon, the three Elves were once again galloping down the path.

"We can't keep ahead of them!" Rissien gasped as they flew. "And for Tathar's sake, we cannot keep this pace!"

"I could…" Legolas started.

"Don't even think it, _Ernil nîn_. You are what we are here to protect," Tûrin, the Captain of their small troop warned.

"We have a slight lead now," Rissien breathed, though his attention was focused not only on keeping his mount steady but also on maintaining a hold on the limp body of Tathar clasped tightly against his chest. "We need to leave Tathar and Legolas under cover of these trees somewhere nearby. Then you and I will go back and slow them. We can only hope it will be enough to frighten them off, that and our proximity to Imladris. They must know that at any moment border guards could appear."

"_Ai Elbereth_, I can only hope that they do!" Tûrin cried. "Up there Legolas, see? To your right there is a wooded area with low bushes. Stop there."

Legolas did as commanded, though inside he seethed. He knew his skills were needed. But they might also be needed to protect Tathar and he knew, too, how to follow orders, even when he did not agree with them. He slowed Harma and quickly dropped from the horse, not even waiting for the heaving mount to come to a complete stop. He gave a gentle whack to the horse's backside and admonished the beast to continue on to safety. He swiftly turned to catch Tathar's body as Rissien dropped the unconscious Elf into his arms.

"Stay safe, 'Las," Tûrin directed. "I would not want to face your brothers or your _adar_ should anything happen to you. Do you understand me?"

"Aye, Captain," Legolas consented. "You have my word." But both Elves had already turned and vanished up the trail, leaving naught but a choking cloud of dust in the air.

Clasping Tathar carefully in his arms, Legolas forced his way through the row of trees and small bushes that lined the road, until he came to a slight clearing where he lowered his burden gently to the ground, being careful to lay the archer on his side to avoid touching the arrow that protruded only slightly from his back – Rissien must have taken time to snap off the end before loading Tathar onto the horse. The archer did not look good. Though Elves were naturally pale, his face was completely devoid of any colouring and even in his unconscious state; his mouth was pulled into a grimace of pain. He was shivering, as well, which more than likely meant that the arrow had been poisoned.

Legolas shivered too. Here he was, abandoned in a forest, leagues from civilization, with no medical kit and the most rudimentary of healing skills to apply. He pulled the cloak from his back and spread it out at Tathar's side, then scooped up the wounded Elf and placed him on the cover, hoping that its thickness would serve as a barrier to the cold seeping from the ground. But still the Elf shivered. Legolas wore too, an overcoat of heavy brocade, more fitting to his station, as they were to have arrived at Imladris today, though nothing too excessive or identifiable to any but a fellow Elf, so as to protect him should he fall into enemy hands. He stripped it off and laid it carefully over the archer, tucking it tightly around his body. A bloody gash ran across Tathar's temple and Legolas stooped to get a better look.

"Is everything all right here?" A quiet voice sounded from behind him, sending Legolas sprawling in shock across Tathar's body. He quickly gathered his wits about him, drawing an arrow from the quiver at his back as he regained his feet, nocking and aiming it even as he spun around to face the owner of the voice. A man stood only a short distance away. Legolas tamped down his first reaction – an overwhelming desire to slap himself on the head for allowing a mere human to sneak up on him – and forced himself to take stock of his opponent. The man was scruffy beyond words, his hair dishevelled and wild about his face, his beard only partially grown in as if he were either young and not capable yet of growing one, or had not shaved properly for several days. Legolas hadn't much experience with men so had no idea which reason might be the cause and he was given no time to ponder it either as the man swept past him, ignoring the arrow aimed directly at his chest, while dropping hastily to his knees at Tathar's side.

"_Ai_! This is Prince Ellarian, is it not?"

Legolas had swung around as the _adan_ passed him, tracking his movements. "Do not touch him!" he hissed, befuddled by the man's total disregard for the arrow still pointed at his chest.

The man raised both hands in the air, shooting Legolas a brief, pleading glance before returning his attention to Tathar. "I can help your Prince, Master Elf, and I would ask that you allow me to do so. He could be seriously injured. There is a lot of blood here," he said, pointing, unnecessarily, Legolas thought, at Tathar's head.

"Why should I believe you?" Legolas demanded. He felt no danger emanating from the man, yet, he had never been in a position of holding another's fate in his hands – a wrong decision now could spell disaster for Tathar, nay, for them all if this proved to be a trap. He hesitated, angry with himself even as he did, knowing that he should not be so unsure. It proved to him, without a doubt, how young and inexperienced and useless he truly was, no matter how great might be his skill with weapons.

The man sensed his confusion and took advantage, again raising both hands in the air before saying, his voice soothing, "I mean you no harm. I can tell by your clothing that you are from Mirkwood and deduce that you are here for the tournament. And I can see from the quality of this cloak and the markings stitched upon it that this must be Prince Ellarian who was supposed to be accompanying you. Please, I know you do not know me but I am fostered by Lord Elrond and he has seen fit to instruct me in the ways of healing. I can help. And if that is not reason enough, my brothers are friends with the Prince and would never forgive me if I let something happen to him."

Legolas glanced briefly at the white-faced Elf stretched on the ground at his feet, blood still oozing from both the wound to his back and the gash on his forehead. Forcing away his doubts, Legolas came to a decision. He gave a sharp nod of his head and lowered his bow, keeping the arrow still nocked in place. The man wasted no time. He examined the arrow wound carefully before moving to the head wound.

"The wound to his back is not deep. The arrow is likely poisoned, but the orcs in these parts rarely use anything too exotic or dangerous. But this head wound is worrying," the man stated. "Does he have other injuries?"

Legolas shrugged, still clutching his bow tightly. "You came before I was able to check completely."

"Very well." The man began to run his hands down Tathar's back, arms, legs and sides, gently kneading the bones with his fingers. Once satisfied, he returned to examine the wound at the Elf's back. Legolas found himself leaning closer, watching with interest. He had seen men before, but never one who seemed so, well - un-manlike. This one's movements were fluid and efficient. He was quick and silent in everything he did, much like an Elf might have been, not to mention that he had a near perfect command of Sindarin. In fact, given that Legolas knew his own Sindarin was freely peppered with colloquialisms and that he spoke with a heavy Silvan accent, this Man's grasp of the language might very well be considered more urbane and indeed more accurate than his own. Fostered by Lord Elrond? Perhaps the man spoke the truth.

"My name is Estel," the man said, almost as if he sensed the curiosity chasing through Legolas's head at that moment. "I have lived with Lord Elrond since I was a small boy. And you are?" he asked continuing his examination of Tathar by resting one of his large hands to the side of the archer's head and pulling up an eyelid with his thumb.

"I?"

"Yes. You do you have a name, I would expect. Most Elves do, or so has been my experience," the man teased despite the seriousness of the situation. Legolas hesitated. He did not trust this man enough to give his real name. Besides, the man thought that Tathar was the Prince and Legolas liked this moment of anonymity. Fully aware that telling untruths had recently become something he practiced with frightening ease, Legolas answered, "Tathar. My name is Tathar."

"Ah, you are the Mirkwood archer, then." The man flicked a quick appraising look over Legolas as if he could assess the Elf's skill from such an examination before returning his attention to his patient. "He definitely has a concussion. His pupils are dilated. And I would rather not remove this arrow out here. We are very close to Imladris. We should take him to my father at once."

"No. We must wait for my friends. They have gone to head off the Orcs that attacked us."

"I have my horse here." The man raised his head and with a hand cupped to his mouth, whistled loudly. Before Legolas could take a breath, the hoof beats of a horse could be heard coming from the direction opposite of that he and Tathar had taken to arrive at the clearing. "I can take him to my father and seek out the border guards on the way to send back to aid you and your friends: they should be close." The man paused to look up at Legolas, cocking his head to one side as he observed the Elf. "You are young. Perhaps I should not leave you here alone."

Legolas stiffened and pulled himself up to stand tall, glowering down at the man. "I am older than you, human," he sniffed. "Quite a bit older, I would say. I can take care of myself."

"Ah, perhaps, though looks may be deceiving. But I know you are not old, for an Elf. I am more concerned though with your experience than the number of years you have walked the earth. You are an archer of some renown so I know you can handle a bow but have you had much practice in combat? Have you fired that bow with an army of Orcs descending upon you? Or, more importantly, do you know when you should fire that bow and when fighting is better left for another day?"

"I am not an Elfling, human," Legolas spat, angered by this child's attitude, as if _he_ would be better fit to fight a battle or defend himself. "I do not need – " His words were cut off as the sound of horses' hooves thundering in the distance caught his attention, much later than they should have, he was certain, for it was only a breath later that the _adan_ jumped to his feet too, drawing the sword at his side. Legolas gave only a moment to question what he should do – protect himself from the man and his sword, or from whatever was rushing headlong towards them. He raised his bow in the direction the horses were approaching from. "It is most likely my friends," he said, in warning. "Look before you do anything human. I will kill you before I allow you to strike, if it is them."

"Have no fear, Master Elf," the man answered, calmly. "I might be younger than you, but I assure you, I have been taught well to recognize friend from foe." The horses skidded to a stop right by their hiding place and in moments, the bushes parted to reveal Tûrin and Rissien, breathing hard but otherwise unscathed. Sword and bow were instantly lowered. However, captain and guard tightened their holds on their own weapons and dashed forward, planting themselves in front of Legolas, separating him from the_ adan_.

"Who are you?" Rissien demanded.

"I am Estel, foster son to Lord Elrond," the man announced with a slight bow in Rissien's direction, "as I've just been telling your friend here. I mean no harm and in fact have been trained in healing by Lord Elrond himself. Please, your Prince needs care. I will lead you to Imladris at once."

"Prince?" Tûrin queried, confused. "Of what do you speak?" He spun around to face Legolas, fear and question in his eyes.

Legolas shook his head once before stammering, "Yes. The Prince is wounded and this - this man was willing to take him to Lord Elrond for help. I think it safe to follow him."

"Oh, do you, now?" Tûrin returned, his fearful look replaced with an amused smirk.

"Uh – yes – I – uh – believe him." Legolas stammered, sending a beseeching look in both warriors' directions.

"And just who do you think you are to be deciding such a thing?" Rissien broke in this time, his smirk more pronounced than Tûrin's and notably devoid of humour.

Estel, oblivious to the undercurrent, had returned to his patient's side. "I am concerned about Ellarian's head wound. It would not pay to tarry, as I was just saying to Tathar. I would be happy to carry him with me."

"Ah, Tathar!" Rissien grunted, glancing back at the human. "I should have known." He stepped close and whispered in Legolas's ear, "just what do you think you are doing, _tithen pen_?" Legolas could only look helplessly back as the man was watching all three of them, impatiently, waiting for an answer. If he thought their reactions strange, however, he showed no sign.

"I will carry him," Tûrin stated, stepping briskly to Tathar's side and picking him up easily in his strong arms. We will follow you, human. Do not try anything unusual or you will find that three Wood Elves from Mirkwood are more than a match for anything you might have in mind."

"I have no intention of trying anything at all, unusual or otherwise, I assure you," the man said, evenly. "You have nothing to fear but what the border guards of Imladris might make of you should you show up, bearing their lord's son's body riddled with Mirkwood arrows. I wouldn't recommend it." The man gave them a rakish smile before swiftly mounting his horse. "It is this way," he said, nodding his head toward the direction opposite from where they had just come.

The three Elves disappeared behind the cover of trees and bushes to the road where Tûrin's and Rissien's horses patiently awaited their return. Legolas whistled loudly for Harma as they walked and it wasn't long before the sound of hooves could be heard approaching.

"What is going on?" Tûrin demanded once they were out of the_ adan_'s earshot.

"I did not intend to be Tathar. It just – happened."

"What in arda did you intend, then?" Rissien hissed. "If this is a ploy for you to be in the contest, Legolas, have a care. Though I do not doubt that you are the right one to be there, this will only lead to disaster, either when Tathar awakens and tells everyone the truth, or when your _adar_ finds out. It matters not how or when you are discovered – you will be eventually and it will be Tûrin and I who will suffer for it, I promise you. We are the ones in charge."

Legolas's eyes had widened at Rissien's rant for, in all honesty, he had never intended to take Tathar's place. Had he? He thought back to the moment the man had confused Tathar with Ellarian and he had decided to become Tathar, in turn. His own safety had little to do with his keeping quiet. Why then had he done it? Had some scheming part of his subconscious mind seen the opportunity in Tathar's injury and the man's mistake, stilling his tongue when he might have spoken the truth, thus giving him a chance to participate in the contest? He couldn't believe that he could be so conniving, so underhanded, so devious! But now that he was aware of the possibilities, he was shockingly and appallingly - fine with it.

He could do this - he could represent Mirkwood in the contest and he could win. They all thought him capable - amazing they had said – remarkable, laudable, the best that Mirkwood had ever produced. He could do this and his _adar_, rather than being angry with him would have to relent. While joining in, singing his praises, Thranduil would realize that Legolas was no mere clerk. All of these thoughts had swirled through his mind in the short time it took for Harma to arrive. He thought over his approach as he swung onto the horse's back.

If he said now that his choice had been based on his own safety - continuing the ruse would have protected him if the_ adan_ had proved to be an enemy rather than a friend – neither Rissien or Tûrin would believe him for an instant for they knew Legolas would never have allowed another to be put in danger to protect himself, not unless commanded to, and they would merely set the man straight as soon as they knew him to be trustworthy. No, that was not the approach to take that would win him his heart's desire. The truth was his best hope, or at least, some semblance of the truth.

"It is obvious that Tathar cannot participate. Who would better represent Mirkwood among us?" He said, his eyes dancing between Rissien and Turin.

"That is not the question here," Tûrin snapped.

"Please, then. I beg of you, keep my secret. This may be my one and only chance to participate - you know this to be true. And if I were to win, then my _adar_ could not keep me from being a warrior – how would that look? Mirkwood's greatest archer relegated to the library. Please! I will tell _Adar_ you had no choice, that I commanded it of you, as your Prince."

"And you think that will be enough to keep us from trouble?" Rissien scoffed, reaching his arms out for Tathar.

"I cannot be sure," Legolas responded, truthfully. "But this is important to me. Surely, you can see that!"

"And what exactly is _this_?" Tûrin asked, handing the wounded archer off to Rissien as he mounted his horse. "Do you really expect to be able to get through the competition without being discovered?"

"I – I don't know. I hadn't thought that far ahead. In fact, I hadn't thought it through at all. Few know Tathar by other than reputation. And even fewer know me by anything, reputation or otherwise. I will never have another opportunity like this one. It is now or never." Tûrin and Rissien glanced at each other before once again regarding Legolas, solemnly.

"You ask too much of us," Rissien muttered, shifting Tathar in his grasp as he prepared to hand him up to Tûrin.

"But it is the only thing I have ever asked of either of you. And what have you asked of me over the course of our friendship? How many secrets have I kept for you?"

The two older Elves were silent as the wounded archer was passed between them and Rissien mounted. Legolas waited until they were ready before making one final attempt. "I am better than Tathar – you have both said so. Was it the truth, or do you say things just because I am the King's son?"

Tûrin looked stricken. "You know that is not how we are, 'Las, and you do us an injustice to even think such a thing, let alone say it aloud," he exclaimed.

Rissien, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes, dangerously and said, "Unless that is part of your ploy? You wish to manipulate us into acting for you. Once again you prove to me that you have savvy far beyond your young years, but it would not pay for you to use it so unwisely. You know that we speak nothing but the truth." He glanced at Tûrin and receiving some sign, imperceptible to Legolas, sighed heavily. "We will say nothing, _tithen Caun_, but do not disappoint us. The only possible way we will be saved a beheading is if you win. Understood?"

Legolas could not keep a broad smile from his face. "Understood. I would not see your head separated from your body, my friends. I will not fail you." Reality set in at once, however, and he asked, "But what of Tathar? When he awakens?"

"Leave Tathar to us," Tûrin smiled, wickedly. We have kept more than a few secrets for him over the millennia, as well. Have no fear." With that, the small group worked their way between the bushes and trees to the clearing beyond where the _Adan_ awaited to lead them to Imladris and destiny.

Dictionary:

_Adar _– father

_Yrch _– orc

_daro _– stop

_Ernil nîn_ – my prince

_Adan _– man

_tithen pen_ – little one

_tithen Caun_ – little prince


	4. Chapter 4

Standard disclaimer – not mine, no money, just for fun

Not much happening this chapter, I'm afraid – I'll try to update faster with the next to make up for it. Thanks to all who are reading and as always, thank you for your wonderful and kind reviews!! Thanks, too, to Sarah for providing her expert beta skills. And thanks too, to Alanic and anon - I coudn't send a personal thanks but would not want to leave you out for anything!

Chapter 4

List of OC's:

Galvreth – Thranduil's closest advisor and friend

Ivran – Legolas's oldest brother, the Crown Prince of Mirkwood

Ellarian – Legolas's middle brother

Tûrin – Captain of the Mirkwood Home Guard and friend of Legolas

Rissien – Lieutenant of the Mirkwood Home Guard and friend of Legolas

Tathar – Mirkwood's greatest archer, set to compete in an archery contest that takes place every 100 years in Imladris

~*~

The riders were met quickly by the border guards of Imladris and escorted forthwith to the door of the last Homely House. Elrond himself awaited their arrival. Tûrin kept a tight grip on Tathar as they followed the obviously worried Elven lord up the stairs and into the healing wing. Legolas would have gladly hung back, recognizing that the next few minutes could spell the end of everything if anyone here knew Ellarian. But Rissien had planted himself behind Legolas and a firm hand to the small of his back, punctuated with an occasional shove, kept him moving quickly forward.

He stopped at the door of the sickroom, startled by the sight that greeted him – two dark haired _Ellyn_ stood around the bed that Tûrin was lowering Tathar onto. They were stunning - tall, muscular, chiselled cheekbones with eyes the colour of mithril. But what had brought Legolas to a halt was the fact that they looked exactly alike, the only difference between them was the colour of their tunics. Instantly, the _adan's_ words replayed in Legolas's head – My brothers are friends with the Prince – and Legolas knew that he was looking at the twin sons of Lord Elrond, the _adan's_ foster brothers. And they knew Ellarian. The end was indeed near.

All three Lords of Imladris leaned over the bed where Tathar now lay on his side. "Where is Ellarian?" one of the twins stated, quite clearly, straightening and looking back at the small contingent still huddled at the doorway, Tûrin having rejoined them to observe from a safer distance, what was about to occur. "Estel, I thought you said that Ellarian was injured? Where is he?" Lord Elrond's foster son came forward from where he had stopped behind Legolas and Rissien.

"That is Prince Ellarian, is it not?" the man asked confused as he joined the others around the bed.

"No," Lord Elrond stated, unequivocally. "That is not Ellarian." Four sets of eyes flicked to the assembled Mirkwood warriors standing frozen at the door and began to rove back and forth across three guilty faces.

"Yes, well," Tûrin stuttered. Elrond's roving gaze snapped back to him. "He, you see, is – "

"Ellarian could not come, my lord," Legolas broke in. "He was called away and so the King sent his youngest, Legolas, in his stead. I don't believe you have met him." He stayed tucked behind Tûrin as best he could – he might never have met Elrond but that did not mean that any likeness he might hold to his father would not be readily apparent. His golden hair alone could be his undoing as there were few Mirkwood Elves, in fact, exactly two, with that trait.

Elrond's eyes swivelled one spot to the right and honed in on Legolas who had to fight to keep from shying away. He managed a discreet swallow but still had not found his tongue when fortune shined upon him - Tathar came to his senses enough to stir upon the bed.

Legolas and company were instantly forgotten. All attention was transferred to the patient with a parting command from Lord Elrond. "Please, go make yourselves comfortable. My servant shall show you to your quarters and see to your needs. I will see that you are informed of the Prince's condition once I am finished here but do not concern yourselves – his wounds do not appear to be at all life threatening." Legolas felt like fainting from relief but held himself still, fighting his desire to turn and run before Elrond decided to ask any more questions. He knew that Tathar would likely awaken soon and then where would they all be, once he opened his mouth? They could hardly leave him alone with the twins and Elrond.

"My lord, if you please. Might I stay?" Tûrin asked. "Legolas is my responsibility and I would not have it be said that I did not do my duty." Again, Legolas felt weak at the knees and shot Tûrin a look of unending thanks, though the Elf's back was to him.

"Of course, of course," Elrond replied, absently, his attention still on his patient. Rissien's firm hand on Legolas's elbow indicated that they were free to go and he lost no time heading out the door and toward freedom, not at all sure how long that freedom might last.

~*~

Elrond ended his examination of the prince and gave orders for things to be made ready for the surgery required to remove the arrow. "I will return in just a moment," he said to the Mirkwood captain, giving what he hoped to be an encouraging smile. "I need to mix an antidote for the poison and something to help with the pain. Your prince has a concussion – he will have a terrible headache once he awakens but with plenty of rest, he should be as good as new."

The captain did not seem overly concerned as he gave a half-hearted nod, seemingly lost in some other thought entirely, leaving Elrond to wonder if Thranduil needed to be informed that the soldier in charge of caring for his child's welfare did not appear to take his job overly seriously. He reminded himself that the Elf had cared enough to stay behind and keep an eye on his charge. He decided to observe carefully and wait to form an opinion – there would be time to notify the king if he felt it necessary and if he were concerned enough, he would send his own Imladrin guard to accompany the Prince on his return trip home. _Given the recent rise in orc activity, that might not be a bad idea, anyway_, he told himself, heaving a frustrated sigh.

He beckoned Elrohir to follow him as he stepped from the room, leaving Elladan to keep watch over the injured prince. All three of his sons were accomplished healers, but Elladan's ability was the greater, as much gift as it was due to the skills Elrond had imparted. The younger twin's long legs easily matched his _adar's_ stride as they hurried down the hall. "Send a falcon with a message about Legolas to the king," Elrond instructed. "Though there is no danger, I would not have it be said that we kept this from him. I know Thranduil and the only things more important to him than fine Dorwinion are his sons and especially his youngest." Elrohir gave a brisk nod before breaking off and heading back down the corridor, leaving Elrond with his thoughts.

He had not seen Thranduil in many years, not since before the birth of Legolas – both father and mother had been hesitant to travel with their most precious Elfling whose coming during this time of increasing shadow had been welcomed as a good omen and a reason for celebration. But omens and celebration had long been put aside. Since the loss of his queen, Thranduil had limited his travel almost exclusively to locations close to home and had ceased to have much contact with the other Elven realms. Perhaps the King's love for this child would send him tearing through the Mirkwood forest to attend to his precious Elfling. And perhaps, Elrond might have the chance to attempt to set things right between them, once again.

~*~

Rissien and Legolas were led from the house to a collection of buildings closer to the stables. Several appeared to be barracks, long, low structures with rows of windows set at regular intervals along the sides. Sure enough, they were led to one and inside they found rows of cots lined up, head to the wall, each with an accompanying window. Legolas was enthralled, having never spent much more than the occasional fortnight on routine patrol around the palace grounds, to be likened more to a camping trip than any sort of military action. Now he would be sleeping just like one of the soldiers. He felt a thrill of excitement and a satisfied sigh escaped him. Rissien's less appreciative grunt brought him back to reality. This should be a common occurrence for a soldier of Mirkwood, not a novel experience or anything to be excited about. It was a barracks after all, not a room in the palace. He caught Rissien's raised brow and shrugged, sheepishly. They were shown to beds and placed their packs beside them.

"The bath house is this way," Elrond's servant announced, again leading the way.

"How exciting, Tathar," Rissien whispered with mock glee, as they followed the Elf away from the barracks, "A common bath with lots of other dirty Elves, I can hardly wait!" Legolas glared at his friend and risked a slight shove to his back when he was quite certain Lord Elrond's servant was not looking, payback for Rissien's teasing and those not so slight pushes he had given Legolas on the way to the sick rooms earlier.

It was several hours later that they found themselves clean, well rested and well fed, leaning against the fence that outlined the archery range, watching a group of Elves practicing. Legolas was noting, with a sinking heart, that they were very, _very_ good.

"Checking out the competition?" Tûrin asked. Both Legolas and Rissien whipped around to find their smiling captain approaching.

"Yes," Legolas admitted. "And they are good. Better than any I have seen before."

"Nonsense, Legolas." Rissien uncharacteristically soothed. "You have never seen yourself."

Legolas stifled his doubts and chose instead to give his friend another playful shove. "Correct, _mellon nîn_, I do not normally shoot arrows in front of a mirror and my name is _Tathar_. Not Legolas. _Tathar_."

Rissien grinned and shoved him back. "I like you being Tathar, brat. I can now treat you with all of the disdain you deserve and not worry about you running off, crying to your _adar_."

"If you two will stop acting like Elflings, I have good news." Both Elves turned their full and undivided attention on Tûrin. The captain stepped closer as another group of Elves passed by, lowering his head conspiratorially. "Tathar has awakened enough for me to tell him what is happening. I assured him that he would not be able to participate but that you, Legolas, would."

"And he accepted that?" Legolas asked, surprised.

"Of course not," Tûrin laughed. "But after I reminded him of the time he "borrowed" your _adar's_ stallion for a midnight ride that ended with the horse throwing a shoe and being stabled for a month while he recuperated and then all of the times he snuck into your _adar's_ wine cellar and stole bottles of the King's finest Dorwinion and then there was the time…"

Legolas raised his hand to interrupt. "Please, tell me no more. I am not in the least bit concerned that he will not keep his mouth shut. How has he managed to get away with all of this and with no one being the wiser, other than the two of you?"

"Oh, Ellarian knows all about it and, in fact, was with him each and every time. You don't think anyone would have the nerve to touch anything of your _adar's_ without his permission do you, other than one of you scallywags that he calls children?"

"But if Ellarian was with him…"

"We told him that Ellarian would support us and he believes us. Ellarian is our friend and allows him to tag along only on occasion. He knows too that you are Ellarian's golden child and that he would do anything for you, brat. He doesn't doubt and he will keep his mouth shut."

"Then it is set. I'm to compete."

"Yes, and from the looks of things, you should probably get some practicing in. Remember, our futures ride upon your slender shoulders, too, _tithen Caun._

"Shh! No _tithen_ _Caun_, no Legolas, not even 'Las. And I would appreciate it if you stopped with _penneth_, as well. I am after all a member of the King of Mirkwood's army and am representing him in this contest. You would not call Tathar young."

"Because he isn't. And you are," Rissien snorted, dropping a hand to Legolas shoulder and squeezing. "Very well, Tathar it is. And we will watch our words. No one will believe that Thranduil sent such a babe to represent him, anyway and we will need to do all we can to keep their suspicions at bay. We will say that you merely look younger than you are."

"I am not a babe," Legolas huffed, folding his arms across his chest.

"And that you have done nothing but train at archery all of your years and so haven't experience at much else," Tûrin joined in, ignoring the sulking Prince. "That, at least, is not far from the truth." He laughed at the stormy look Legolas shot him. "Come – let's retrieve our bows, Tathar. There is much to do. The contest begins day after tomorrow." They quickly gathered bows and quivers and headed back to the archery range. They had not gone far when they rounded a corner, nearly running into the three sons of Lord Elrond.

"We were just coming to find you," one of the twins remarked. "We wanted to make certain that you had been properly taken care of and assure you that your Prince was improving." All three Mirkwood representatives bowed and Tûrin stepped forward.

"We thank you for your attention, my lords, to us and to our Prince, most of all. I was given assurance that he would recover fully by Lord Elrond and have passed that on to my friends. We are relieved enough that we decided that archery practice would not be out of line, given that the tournament starts shortly."

"Certainly not," the other twin said, "and we would like to show you the way, if you are so inclined. I am Elrohir," he said, smiling.

"And I am Elladan," the first twin chimed in. "The _older_ brother, in case that should matter to you." Elrohir wasted no time shoving his brother in the back. "And when you act like that Elrohir, I realize that I need tell no one, for if I wait long enough, you will give yourself away," Elladan scolded, just before pushing his brother back, hard enough to propel him from the path.

"And they call _me_ the youngest," Estel chuckled, rolling his eyes. The two brothers straightened at once and gave formal bows to the Mirkwood contingent. Tûrin then introduced each of the their small group, in turn. Legolas could not take his eyes off of the two identical faces of the sons of Elrond, never having seen twins of either Elven or Man kind before. He was mesmerized. An amused snicker to his right caught his attention and he turned to find Estel smirking at him. He realized then that his mouth was hanging open, his amazement all too obvious. He snapped it shut and glowered at the man. Estel stepped forward, the smirk turning into a friendly grin.

"Come, Tathar. The practice fields are this way. Your reputation precedes you and I am eager to see you shoot." The man motioned down the path and led them ahead of the others. "My brothers are unusual, are they not?"

Legolas felt heat rise in his cheeks. "Aye, they are," he admitted. It would do no good to deny his obvious enchantment. "I have never seen twins before."

"They are an oddity, on many levels," Estel said, a wide grin splitting his face.

"How do you tell them apart?" Legolas broached the thing that had troubled him since the first time seeing the two together. He could discern no difference between them other than that they wore clothing of different colour and design.

"I have lived here since I was quite small and I have to say that it is still a challenge for me," Estel answered. "They do have different mannerisms but when they want to, they can act one like the other and it becomes nigh on impossible to tell them apart. I can tell you that Elrohir has an ability to connect with horses that I have never seen in Elf or Man before and that Elladan is afraid of thunder and lightening and dislikes mud and rain."

"You must be jesting, surely? He is an Elf and a warrior, not some frightened, squeamish prude.""

"He is all of the above, my friend. And I speak nothing but the truth." Legolas snickered and ducked his head when he caught both twins staring at him, suspiciously. Estel grabbed his arm and pulled the archer further down the path and away from the trailing older Elves. "There is one difference I have learned that I will not divulge to them, or they might correct for it," Estel whispered, shooting furtive looks over his shoulder at the twins who were once again, deep in conversation with Tûrin and Rissien.

"Oh?"

"Elladan favours his left hand and Elrohir his right. They can use them both with equal skill but they choose their favourite unless forced to do otherwise. I'm sure they know that they differ in this way, but I do not think they know that I have realized it."

"So they could change if they needed to fool you."

"Oh yes, which is why I do not want them to know that I know. All hope is lost if that should happen. I have trusted you with an important secret, Tathar. There are times when it might mean life or death for me to be able to tell those two trouble-makers apart."

Legolas laughed out loud. "I will keep your trust, Estel, you have my word. I have two brothers of my own and can imagine the import of what you say. Have no fear. Your secret is safe with me."

They continued on up the path, Estel asking all manner of questions about Legolas's journey from Mirkwood - had they seen many orcs? Had it been any different than previous trips? - remarking on how lately there had been heavy orc activity on the outskirts of Imladris, which was most unusual.

"I don't know," Legolas answered, truthfully. "I have nothing to compare it to. I have never come here before to tell whether there has been a change."

"But you have been to the outskirts of Mirkwood before. Did you encounter more orcs there than normal?"

"I – uh – I can't say. I haven't travelled much anywhere and, so, wouldn't know." Estel gave him a sidelong look and grinned again.

"I told you that you were young."

"I am older than you, human," Legolas retorted. He was growing tired of this constant discussion of his age, or lack thereof.

"Tathar, it may please you to know that _everyone_ here is older than I am. I'm used to being the youngest and it bothers me not. Please forgive me but it truly is a welcome change to have someone else around to share in the teasing my brothers mete out on a regular basis. I have no doubt you will be treated to their favours from now on, as well, now that we are friends."

Legolas could not help but laugh at that. "I am used to it too, though I must say, I do not bear it as graciously as you. My brothers are only just beginning to treat me as something other than an Elfling but my _adar_, I fear, never will. It is all he can do to allow me to dress myself in the morning, I think."

"Ah, perhaps, but he allowed you to come on this trip. Is it because he did not realize what a dangerous journey it might prove to be? Orc activity is increasing but it is hardly a surprise."

"Well – uh – I think - uh –" Legolas stammered. The rest of the group had caught up with them and though Tûrin and the twins were still engrossed in conversation, Rissien was listening to Legolas and Estel, one dark brow raised. Legolas tore his eyes away to look at Estel again, swallowing heavily before trying once more to formulate some semblance of an intelligible answer. "I'm – I'm sure that he knew that Tûrin and Rissien would be with me and - and that they were quite trustworthy." Even he knew it was a pathetic response. He glanced again at the older Elves. Rissien was staring directly at him, his face a shade of white akin to a bleached bone.

~*~

Dictionary:

_Adan _- Man

_penneth _- young one

_Adar _- father

_Naneth _- mother

_yrch _- orc

_tithen pen_ – little one

_tithen Caun_ – little prince

_mellon nîn_ – my friend


	5. Chapter 5

Standard disclaimer – not mine, no money, just for fun

Thanks to my wonderful beta Sarah and to those who are reading this story. I can't thank you enough too, for letting me know you are out there!!!

~*~

List of OC's:

Galvreth – Thranduil's closest advisor and friend

Ivran – Legolas's oldest brother, the Crown Prince of Mirkwood

Ellarian – Legolas's middle brother

Tûrin – Captain of the Mirkwood Home Guard and friend of Legolas

Rissien – Lieutenant of the Mirkwood Home Guard and friend of Legolas

Tathar – Mirkwood's greatest archer, set to compete in an archery contest that takes place every 100 years in Imladris

~*~

Chapter 5

Rissien knew. It had taken Estel's simple statement for it to come to him. Of course Thranduil would never have allowed Legolas to make this trip. Legolas swallowed again and forced his attention away from Rissien to Tûrin and the twins, ignoring the interesting shade of purple his friend's face was now turning. The other Elves' discussion mimicked the one Estel and Legolas had just been having.

"We have not seen so many orcs so close to Imladris in a long time," said Elladan, waving his left hand in the air, Legolas noted, to emphasize his point.

"Oh?" responded Tûrin.

"Elrohir and I, with a lot of help, cleared out most of them after - after our mother…" his words trailed off.

"Our _naneth _was attacked by orcs," Elrohir finished, the shine in his mithril eyes suddenly turning cloudy. "And we took it upon ourselves to take our revenge."

Legolas felt his chest constrict and could not squelch a sudden desire to know what had happened to her, though by rights, if Mirkwood had been a little less isolated from the other Elven realms and he, more educated in their history, would not have needed to do what he did; something which was wholly and completely uncalled for. Without care for the twin's feelings, he blurted out, "Was she killed?" realizing even as the words left his mouth that he was being thoughtless and no doubt, cruel.

He at once bit his lower lip and dropped his eyes to the tops of his boots, but not before seeing Tûrin's and Rissien's pained expressions. "I – I - am sorry," he mumbled, "It is none of my affair." He was still unsure as to what had driven this sudden need to know, other than the obvious, having never before felt the least bit interested in even thinking about his own losses, much less talking about them – he could never be certain that those who listened would not repeat all that he said and his family's pain and suffering would become nothing more than fodder for gossip. But he did not have that fear with the twins – even if they had known who he was, they, more than anyone would understand.

"No, no, it is quite all right," Elladan answered. Reaching out, he placed a soothing hand on his brother's shoulder. "She did not die. But she did sail."

"I am truly sorry," Legolas stammered, forcing his eyes up to make his heartfelt apology. The twins still appeared lost in sadness but showed him no anger or disgust. He felt even worse, then, for driving them further into their melancholy. He felt compelled to explain why he had so lost his tongue, and added, "It is just that I – I can understand some of your pain. My own _naneth _was attacked by orcs, as well." The sadness in both twins' eyes was at once replaced by sympathy. He felt he owed them the answer that they would both seek but would never be as tactless as he had been to ask. He found however that he could not say the words – his throat had closed and his mouth felt like it was full of sawdust.

"His lady _naneth_ was killed," Tûrin answered for him. "His brother, too."

"It is our turn to be sorry, Tathar," Elladan answered.

"Indeed it is," the other twin joined in. "No matter our ages, it appears we have much in common. The loss of one loved is never easy but in such a way…"

Elladan drew a deep breath, squeezed his brother's shoulder and stepped forward, "It is true - I think we will need to begin clearing our lands of orcs once again before long, it seems. But for now, we have the contest to concern ourselves with. And I, like Estel, am eager to see you shoot, Tathar. There are some who think that with Glorfindel sitting this one out, Mirkwood has an excellent chance to win this year, if the rumours that abound are any indication." Legolas felt heat suffuse his cheeks and caught Estel grinning at him again.

"And that would be the only reason you would have a chance to win," came a booming voice from behind. They turned to find a tall, solidly built Elf with flowing golden hair approaching.

"Glorfindel!" Elrohir shouted, throwing himself with abandon at the striding Elven lord. The warrior wrapped his arms around the Elf and held him in a brief hug. Legolas had thought the twins to be tall but more than the top of the golden-haired lord's head could be seen over the darker headed twin and he had the advantage in girth as well though both were solid and muscular, for Elves. Legolas and his brothers took after the Silvan side of their line which tended to be slender and lithe, more conducive to climbing trees and running through their boughs, a necessity in a land that was mostly given over to deep forest. He had never seen, outside of his own father, such broad shoulders or massive chest as the tall warrior Elf presented.

"I have missed you, _penneth_! I am glad to be back," Glorfindel exclaimed, giving the second twin an equally exuberant greeting. "You have no idea how dull it has been without you two around. Why, not once while in Lorien did I fear finding something frightful in my morning porridge, or luncheon broth, nor did I worry that my robes would be stuck to my chair upon rising from the evening meal."

"Glorfindel has only recently returned from a visit to Lothlorien to retrieve the lady Arwen, the daughter of Lord Elrond." Estel explained. "She is very beautiful. You will have to meet her."

"I think our young charge needs to concentrate on practice," Rissien answered for the still blushing Prince. "He hasn't much experience with beautiful Elven ladies and he might find it a bit too distracting."

"And who might you be?" Glorfindel asked, nodding at the Mirkwood contingent. "Elves of Mirkwood, there can be no doubt. But surely, this _penneth_ cannot be the famous Tathar! He is far too young to have earned such a reputation."

"My lord," Elladan said. "This is indeed Tathar Sithrolion.

"Ah, you _are_ the archer, then. I am indeed pleased to meet you."

Legolas bowed low, unable to keep the quaver from his voice as he answered, "No my lord, it is my pleasure to meet _you_." This was the famous Glorfindel, re-embodied balrog slayer and archer of great renown. Legolas's mouth might have dropped open at his first sight of twins but his heart had stopped at this unexpected and unparalleled honour.

"And these are Tûrin and Rissien, his fellow Mirkwood warriors," Elladan continued with the introductions. Glorfindel greeted them each before returning his attention to a still awe-struck Legolas.

"You go to practice? I should like to come and watch."

Legolas's heart lurched at the idea of the famous Elf watching him shoot. Nerves and excitement both sent his pulse pounding.

"Might that not lead some to question your impartiality, seeing that you will be a judge of the contest?" Estel queried.

"Do you think so, Estel?" the warrior asked, levelling a cool blue gaze on the _adan_ while arching both golden brows. "Do you really think anyone would have the nerve to question my impartiality?"

Estel grinned widely. "No, my Lord Glorfindel, not and live to tell about it."

"Then come, let us make for the practice range." They all turned and headed for the range, Legolas keeping his silence while listening to the twins fill their friend in on the recent orc activity around Imladris and Glorfindel's description of his more-or-less uneventful journey from Lothlorien. It came as a shock to Legolas then when the mighty warrior addressed him once again.

So, Tathar," he said, smiling, "just how old _are_ you?" It was all Legolas could do but groan. Was this to be the focus of his entire existence?

"My lord, I am just young looking. I am hardly young."

"Yes, my lord," Tûrin chimed in. "He has young looking skin, the envy of all of the _Ellith_ in Mirkwood." The Elf almost, but not quite, missed the elbow punch thrown at his gut. Clutching his stomach but still able to laugh, Tûrin was joined by the others to Legolas's chagrin.

They arrived at the practice field and found unoccupied slots, Tûrin and Rissien positioning themselves protectively beside their charge though, protecting him from what, Legolas had no idea. He suddenly became aware of the heads turned towards him and understood that Tathar was something of an enigma – he had never been outside of the borders of Mirkwood and his reputation had been built on word of mouth alone. They were all curious and eager to gauge the competition and to decide whether they had cause for concern.

The scrutiny made Legolas nervous and his first practice shot barely made it onto the target. He heard the snickers and twitters that ran up and down the practice lines and felt his cheeks warm with embarrassment. He had probably not made such an awful shot in years. A flicker of fear jumped in his stomach; what if he could not take the pressure? He tossed his head as if to shake out any such notion.

"Are you all right, 'Las?" Tûrin whispered in Legolas's ear.

"Fine," he answered. He needed to concentrate. He pulled another arrow from his quiver and allowed his mind to clear. The next shot hit the centre of the target, as did the next and the next and the next. His performance was nothing special as the targets were not so far away as to be difficult, but at least he felt better – he had found his rhythm and would not miss again, no matter how far the target; no matter who might be watching.

The sound of a bell rang out and all shooting stopped. A tall Elf dressed in the colours of an Imladrin warrior stepped forward, hand raised. The practicing Elves began to group at the centre of the practice line. Legolas discovered Estel and the twins close beside him.

"He's the archery master," Estel answered Legolas's raised brow.

The archery master waited until everyone had assembled and grown silent before speaking. "This year," he announced, "We have a new addition to the competition." He waved his arm towards the low wall that surrounded the practice range. Loud squeaking sounds were the prelude to the appearance of a dozen or so small contraptions on wheels. Each consisted of a wooden base the size of a small wheelbarrow with a piece of metal jutting from the centre. Another, thicker piece of metal, looking much like a cross bow lay at an angle atop the centre pole, pointing up toward the sky. The devices were dragged down the practice field and positioned along the outside of the range six to each side, their aim angled downfield and toward the centre. The archery master strode to the closest device and took from a box what appeared to be a small round ball no bigger than a child's fist, dull in colour and texture. This he held aloft and moved his arm around in a circle so all might see. "Each of these are made of baked clay which makes them soft on the inside but brittle on the outside," he announced.

A soft murmur rolled across the assembled group like a wave, quieting again when the archery master raised his other hand to silence them, while simultaneously placing the ball on the angled piece of metal, resting it against yet another, smaller angled piece at the base of the shaft, resembling a handle. The ball held there, resting in a groove that had been formed into the metal.

"Now watch carefully," the master said, excitement tingeing his words. He wrapped both of his hands around the handle that was placed at about eye height to the tall Elf and drew it back until it was almost level with his waist. It was not an easy thing to do, evidenced by the Elf's bulging arm muscles but the angle of the shaft also allowed him to use his weight to aid in dragging it back. "Ready?" the Elf shouted.

All eyes had been focused on the archery master and no one had noticed an Imladrin Elf, also dressed in warrior attire, standing at the centre of the practice line, aiming down field. "Ready!" he shouted. The archery master let go of the handle he grasped and it went sliding back up the metal shaft, propelling the tiny ball before it, high into the air, much faster and farther than it could have been thrown. The archer's arm tensed as he sighted down the length of his arrow, tracking the tiny ball that was all but invisible as it sped through the air. Before a breath could be taken on anyone's part, the Elf released and the arrow chased through the air. It came into contact with the ball at almost centre field, the ball exploding into pieces as the projectile pierced its fragile shell.

Loud applause and cheering broke out amidst the crowd, quickly followed by the Elves surging around the archer, hands in the air waving, anxious to be given a chance to try. "Calm, everyone!" the archery master commanded. "You will each get practice time as this will be the final challenge in the competition this year, for those of you who make it that far." Legolas who had maintained his position next to the sons of Elrond and his friends felt his heart plummet. He would be at a decided disadvantage in this sport, he knew. Many Elves hunted bird in this fashion and were more than able to shoot their prey from the sky. In Mirkwood, with its almost complete leaf canopy overhead, such shooting was nigh on impossible. He had never shot something out of the sky in his life.

"Not fair!" one of the Elves cried. "Your Imladrin contenders have been able to practice with this fancy machine. You will best any of the rest of us who will have at most a day or two to try it?" A burst of grumbling washed through the crowd.

The archery master put his hand in the air again. "Quiet," he said, followed by a shout, "Quiet!" All quieted and turned to look toward where he still stood beside the strange shooting device. "Though they have been able to witness the device's testing, no Imladrin archer who is participating in this competition has been allowed to practice with it, nor have we let them know of its intended use. If you wish to cry foul, I suggest you concern yourselves with our Mirkwood competitor. I have been to Mirkwood and I doubt Tathar has ever had the opportunity to hunt birds in the air."

All eyes turned to Legolas and he gulped. "That is true," he said, his voice sounding timid after the booming of the archery master.

"Good," came another voice from the pack still surrounding the archer at the centreline. "That eliminates Mirkwood again, just like every other year." Snickers and guffaws rose from the crowd. Legolas felt anger push out his dismay. He straightened his shoulders and gripped his bow tightly trying to ignore their laughter, as well as the pity on the faces of Estel and the twins.

The archery master stepped to the centre of the line. "Please, form a line. That will determine the order of practice. Again the Elves surged forward, this time surrounding the archery master who commanded them into line and began to count them off. Legolas held back, though he knew he desperately needed to take this opportunity to practice. How horrible it would be if he were to make it all of the way to the end, only to fail.

He felt a nudge to his back, followed by a not so gentle shove. "Go, brat. Take your turn!" Rissien urged. Legolas stumbled forward. By the time he took his place in line, he was last.

Once they had their number and their place in the order, the Elves began to find spots behind the line to observe the action. The first archer stepped up to a combination of taunts and cheers from the audience. The machine used by the archery master was again loaded with a clay ball, this time by another Elf and the metal handle retracted. The archer took aim. "Say when you are ready," instructed the archery master. The archer sighted along his drawn arrow and glanced to his right where the Elf awaited his call. "Ready!" he cried. The Elf let go of the arm and the ball flew off of the end of the device. The archer tracked it for an instant before letting loose his arrow. It flew wide and the Elves about him groaned.

"Again!" the archery master instructed. The Elf manning the machine on the other side of the range let go and another ball was propelled into the air. The archer barely had time to grab an arrow and release again but this time, he managed to hit the ball. Cheers and applause rang out. The archer was so busy accepting congratulations that when the archery master called out again, "Shoot!" he missed his shot completely and the pats of congratulations on his back turned into good natured pokes and prods to his arm and ribs joined by jeers and catcalls. He got progressively better as he continued to practice missing only half of his initial shots. The archery master called for attention again. "These last shots will come randomly from any of the machines at any given time. You will not know from which machine the ball will release. "Now, go!"

This was much more difficult. The Elf struggled to hit flying balls coming at all angles and heights. His success rate dropped to less than a third and he was breathing hard with effort and frustration. "Now to make it really difficult," the archery master announced, which was followed by groans on the part of the archer and laughter from the other Elves, though it was nervous laughter – their time would be coming shortly – "you must hit a ball fired from a great distance. He motioned toward the end of the practice field where one lone machine had been placed.

"_Ai_! The Elf cried, "I cannot shoot something fired from that unless it fires in this direction!"

"Then you cannot win and should go home now," the archery master said without mercy, raising his hand in the air. The archer frowned, narrowed his eyes and straightened, pulling another arrow from his quiver without a word and nocked it to his bow. "Are you ready?" the archery master asked. The Elf nodded. The archery master's hand came down. The sound of metal sliding against metal foretold the balls' release. The archer fired at what could only be imagined in the distance for a human and what appeared to be nothing more than a dark spot against the white clouds to Elven eyes. The shot not only fell far short of its mark, it also went wide, not coming even close to a hit. "Next!" the archery master called, his piercing grey eyes not giving any encouragement whatsoever to the archer stepping back.

"Lalorn was never much of a shot," Elladan announced, from Legolas's back.

"No," Glorfindel said, from his right, "nor was he ever a good loser, either."

"This looks to be quite difficult," Legolas said, unable to keep the dismay from his voice.

"You'll do fine, _penneth_," Glorfindel said. "I watched you practicing. You have an excellent stance, good solid draw, and your aim is sure, your eye careful. You will do fine." Legolas felt his cheeks go warm and chanced a glance to his side to make certain that it was indeed Glorfindel who had said those words. Sure enough, the blond warrior was smiling fondly at him. Legolas swallowed and returned the smile with trepidation. He hoped he would not disappoint someone who had been his hero for as long as he could remember.

Legolas spent the next several hours watching the machine release, the ball as it sailed through the air and the aiming and shots of the other archers. On occasion, he caught sight of Glorfindel observing him. The Imladrin lord never failed to give him an encouraging smile and Legolas found himself greatly comforted by it, his confidence growing as he waited patiently, the antithesis of the effect the long wait was having on most of the other Elves. By the time it was Legolas's turn, he radiated calm and focus. He stepped up and placed the first arrow to his string. That simple process was like a balm to him; everything else about him, the noise, the movement of the other archers, the occasional snipe or snicker all faded away and Legolas heard nothing but a gentle buzz in his ears - the sound of the wind caressing his bowstring.

"Shoot!" the archery master called and the ball was shot into the air. Legolas tracked it with his keen eyesight and let his arrow go at the point he thought he needed to, utilizing the knowledge he had gleaned watching the other Elves, to his advantage. He was wrong. The arrow fell point down into the dirt. The sounds of the other Elves twittering did not bother him though, and he only half registered the encouraging calls from the twins, Estel, Rissien and Tûrin. He was too engrossed in mentally recalibrating his shot, calculating how quickly the ball had moved up the slot and then once into the air, the relationship of how it fell to where he would need to place his next arrow in order to make contact.

When the call came again to release the ball, he was more than ready. The next arrow hit the ball in the centre. It exploded on impact, showering the ground beneath with bits of clay. The other archers had already begun to wander off at his miss, bored after hours of watching many more misses than hits and certain that Legolas would be, at best, no better than the others and more likely worse. They came scampering back but stayed silent as if unsure whether or not it had been a lucky shot. The next ball released into the air and once again, Legolas hit it with perfect precision. The field had erupted into applause after his third hit. By the tenth, all had gone eerily silent.

The archery master had made no comment and did not pause for long before shouting to the Elves down field to begin the multiple releases at varying intervals. Again, Legolas's arrows were true and ball after ball shattered in mid-air. Again, the archery master did not pause in his commands. The device at the end of the field was readied and let loose the last ball far into the now darkening sky. Legolas had to rely on wits and calculation as much as sight as he released his shot. A hush settled over the practice field as the arrow flew. Even after it hit its target and the ball shattered, the shower of tiny clay particles all but invisible even to the keen eyes of Elves, the quiet hung in the air.

"What happened," Estel asked, tugging on Rissien's sleeve. "I can't see, tell me what happened."

"He hit it," Rissien answered, his voice heard throughout the quiet practice field. Applause started at one end of the field and before long, all were cheering and pounding Legolas on the back.

Confused by their attention, and decidedly uncomfortable, his face grew hot beneath their enthusiastic regard. "Shall we retrieve our arrows?" he gulped, his voice barely registering above the cheers and applause.

"I'll get them for you, Tathar. It would be an honour," Glorfindel himself said and strode away toward the field before Legolas could object, followed by the other Elves as they all set about to retrieve their arrows, talking in hushed, awestruck whispers.

"You have been practicing, 'Las," Tûrin breathed. I had no idea you had grown so proficient."

"Tathar," Legolas responded absently, attempting to mask his embarrassment.

"Aye, forgive me! I was in shock."

"Do not let it go to your head, _Tathar_," Rissien warned, with typical brusqueness. "That is all we need; a puffed up dilettante who throws away Mirkwood's hopes, made impotent by fawning and flattery. Keep your wits about you." Legolas, regaining some of his usual aplomb, was more than ready to let fly a retort but bit his tongue, recognizing that the other Elves within earshot more than likely saw him as a junior officer in this troop and therefore would expect him to act with a bit of respect for his elders. He could still exact revenge, he thought, as he bowed low in Rissien's direction.

"Of course, sir. You are right and I thank you for your thoughtful and intelligent advice," he said, hoping he had managed to keep the sarcasm from his voice. He rose, expecting to find a befuddled Rissien observing him but instead faced the thoughtful countenance of Lord Glorfindel as he held out a handful of arrows. "Th - thank you, my - my lord," he managed to stammer.

"My pleasure, young Tathar." Glorfindel continued to observe him for a moment and it was all Legolas could do not to glance away. His cheeks again grew warm under the intense scrutiny. "I look forward to the contest," the golden warrior said at last, giving a quick, abbreviated bow. "For now, I bid you farewell." He turned to address the twins. "I have a meeting with your father in a few minutes. May I expect to see you at dinner? I would like warning whether to check my seat before sitting."

"We were thinking of eating with our friends here, if they would allow us," Elladan answered, nodding his head at the Mirkwood Elves. "Someone needs to keep the children in line and I'm certain that Tûrin and Rissien would like some help."

"Very well. I appreciate the continued respite for however long it might last."

"You have impressed him, Tathar," Estel said, once Glorfindel's golden head had disappeared beyond the hedges.

"Have I?" Legolas responded, his voice once again small. He had received praise before from his archery master and his brothers and friends but never from anyone that he would not have thought might be more than a little prejudiced. Regardless the words spoken to Tûrin and Rissien, he still harboured some doubt that they just might have been saying things to him because he was the king's son as much as he did not want that to be true. To hear praise from the likes of Glorfindel gave a great boost to his confidence. He could not keep the smile from his face and Estel clasped him good-naturedly on the shoulder.

"I must be off too," Elladan said. "I will check up on your Prince again before dinner. Will I see you there?"

"It would be our pleasure," Tûrin answered. "Do you need me to join you?"

"No, no. I need only check on him. He is sleeping a lot now and that is what he needs. I will see you at dinner then." With bows all around, the twin disappeared up the path.

"We should take ourselves back to the barracks to wash up and relax," Tûrin said. "I for one have had a full day of it and could use the rest. Regardless of Elladan's assurances, I should do my duty and check on the Prince, too, before the evening meal." They began to walk slowly up the path toward the barracks.

"You should not worry about him," Elrohir said. "Between _Adar_ and Elladan, he will be well cared for."

"I do not worry a bit. Yet, I have a duty and I must – "

"Well, well. At last Mirkwood sends someone who can do something more than shoot arrows into the dirt." A tall silver-haired Elf with flashing eyes and a mouth set in a sneer appeared at Legolas's side, trailed by at least a half dozen other Elves of similar hair-colour and array that reminded Legolas of the Lórien Elves he had seen on rare occasions when they paid a visit to court. Legolas remembered them from the practice session and knew that the one doing the talking had performed well but could recall nothing more about him, other than his skill with a bow.

"Tathar, Tûrin, Rissien," Elrohir said, with pained politeness. "Meet Haldir of Lórien and his brothers, Rumil and Orophin and their friends Surin and Suiadan. I'm afraid I don't know the rest of their group." It was obvious, by the tone of his voice, that he had no desire to, either. Haldir's sneer stayed firmly in place as he gave a slight dip of his head in the direction of Tûrin and Rissien, his attention still focused on Legolas.

"I am already acquainted with Tûrin and Rissien," the silver haired Elf said. "But I have never met this one. Impressive, indeed, Tathar, but not enough, I'm sure, to beat me. It was all Glorfindel could do last competition to manage that and trust me, you are no Glorfindel." Legolas felt his blood begin to simmer. He did not know this Elf but he was certain that he did not like him.

"You couldn't beat Glorfindel if he had both hands tied behind his back and was shooting with his feet, Haldir," Estel shot back. "And after seeing Tathar shoot, I'm not sure that Glorfindel wouldn't have a challenge on his hands. Trust me, Haldir, you are no Tathar."

The Lórien Elf's eyes darkened and his sneer turned into a scowl. "You were always one to pick up strays, Estel," He sniffed. "I'm not surprised at the company you keep or, for that matter, that they accept you in turn."

"And I hear they bring their mongrel Prince with them, too," one of the trailing Elves laughed. "One and the same indeed! I hear he looks nothing like the king…" He was instantly shushed by the others. "But 'tis true!"

"Quiet fool," Haldir commanded, turning and shooting a withering look at the Elf who had spoken.

Legolas could only stand in shock, marvelling at the Elf's nerve. It helped not that Haldir's sneer was clouded with dismay, or that the other Elves in his group looked decidedly uncomfortable. It took every ounce of training he had received at his father's and Galvreth's hands not to plant a fist in the snivelling creature's face. Estel apparently had no such training, or chose not to employ it and Rissien too surged forward, both brandishing tight fists and scowls of their own. Tûrin had kept his wits about him and flung an arm around Rissien's waist, holding him tight. Estel was left for Elrohir to manage, which he did by stepping deftly between him and the pack of Lorien Elves.

Haldir immediately stepped forward, hands splayed before him in an effort to defuse the situation. "Please forgive him, my lord," He said to Elrohir, who was still more than occupied with restraining Estel and had not, as of yet, spoken. "He has allowed his mouth to run without benefit of thought, a fault that he has exhibited on more than one occasion."

"It is good that you recognize so quickly the error of his ways," the twin answered, satisfied, for the moment at least, that Estel would not do anyone immediate harm. "And I would hope, your own, as well, or I might yet let go of my little brother. I would not want what was said here to find its way back to Lórien, either. I do not think your lord and lady would be pleased."

To his credit, Haldir did not even flinch. "Ah, but they are only words, _mellon_," he said, his voice smooth. "The contest will begin soon enough and we will have no more need for words, after that. Until then." He gave a bow in Elrohir's direction. Estel was not interested in letting any of them go so easily and Elrohir was forced to wrap his arms about his brother and turn him forcibly back down the path, away from the retreating Lorien Elves. Tûrin had managed to do the same with Rissien though the latter was far from silent about it.

"You have no right to stop me from laying them all out, Tûrin. None!"

"And I'm sure that our King and Tathar's family would be proud that you not only showed up a group of worthless and arrogant Lórien upstarts but that you also risked our master archer's health and well-being in the process," Tûrin hissed. That silenced the fuming guard and he stopped fighting against the firm arms that propelled him onward.

They walked in silence, the harsh sound of Estel's breathing and an occasional muttered curse from Rissien the only interruption. It was disturbing that word that the Prince did not look like Thranduil had gotten out, bringing Legolas that much closer to being found out. But there was something more, something that loomed larger in his mind than any fear of discovery. Unable to endure it any longer, he voiced what was bothering him. "What did he mean by "mongrel"," he asked. He knew what the term meant but could not fathom why he would be considered as such.

"It is nothing," Tûrin answered, hurriedly. You should not let it worry you."

"The Elves of Lórien have long looked down on those of Mirkwood," Rissien supplied, his eyes flicking to Elrohir's. "We are Silvan." Elrohir lowered his head and gave over all of his concentration to his footing on the smooth and unfettered path.

"But are they not, too?" Legolas asked, suddenly suspicious of their obvious desire to close the subject. "And besides, he was talking about the Prince when he said it. Not you."

There was another long moment of silence broken at last by Rissien. "He talks of the King's choice to wed a Silvan Elf."

Legolas stiffened at once. "How dare they," he growled. He suddenly wished Tûrin had not held Rissien back and would have gladly joined him though it might easily have led to his being tossed from the contest and his father hearing about his behaviour which would not have helped his already, near hopeless, situation.

Tûrin's hand gripped his shoulder, soothingly. "It is a source of great pride to us that your - that our King chose to marry into the clan of those that he rules."

They trudged on in silence, Legolas now fuming as he thought of what the Lórien Elf was implying. A deep sigh filled the air and he suddenly realized that Elrohir had been silent throughout their discussion. It made sense that he would have been angered – this was his father's realm and his guests were being roundly insulted not to mention the fact that his blood was far from pure Noldorin and had perhaps heard the word applied to himself at times in his life. But Legolas remembered the look the twin had shared with Rissien and could not shake the feeling that there was something more involved. Rissien's explanation was enough to make Legolas furious; what could possibly be worse?

"I know you need to practice," Estel said, breaking into his thoughts, "but would you want to go hunting with me tomorrow?" The _adan's_ voice was once again calm and collected and you would have never known he had, only moments before, been ready for a brawl.

"Of course," Legolas answered, gladly putting the incident with the Lórien Elves behind him. The opportunity to go hunting excited him and he jumped at the chance. He had been allowed to hunt at home only as a closely watched member of one of his brother's hunting parties, each an unwieldy affair with "party" being the operative word – there had been much drinking and laughing and with the ensuing racket, not much actual hunting had gone on. There had been the occasional trip into the woods too with his brothers and sometimes with Tûrin and Rissien, as well, and those had been glorious occasions, times that he remembered and treasured, not only for the fact that they were few and far between but because they had been fun and not laden with the grief that so often shadowed their steps.

"You will be going nowhere without us, Tathar," Rissien interrupted. The glowering face of his friend brought Legolas back to reality – Rissien had discovered his secret and he was in trouble - a lot of it.

"But you can go with us, of course," Estel responded. Legolas was on the receiving end of a surreptitious wink, not missed by Rissien as evidenced by an inelegant snort emanating from the guard's flared nostrils.

"I think the only hunting Tathar will be doing will be hunting for a target in the practice field, Estel, but thank you for including him," the guard said, somehow maintaining his manners.

"Very well. Perhaps I can meet you for breakfast, then?"

"Aye, I can do that at least, can't I, _nana_?"

"Don't get smart with me, brat," Rissien snapped – manners for the son of Elrond, it seemed, but not for the son of Thranduil. Legolas clamped his mouth shut. He was in trouble; of that there could be no doubt.

"Breakfast would be fine, Tathar," Tûrin broke in, a hand on Rissien's arm. "But then it is off to practice."

"And don't forget, dinner tonight, if you would all join us."

"It would be our pleasure," Tûrin answered. They gave short bows to each other and Estel turned to head back to the main house. He paused though, swinging back around to smile pointedly at Legolas. "And you and I can discuss the benefits and pleasures of being young." he said, winking again before turning once more to trail after his brothers.

"Estel seems nice enough, doesn't' he?" Tûrin said, smiling after the _adan's_ retreating back.

"Other than the eye twitch that seems to have affected him, yes, nice enough," Rissien muttered. He glanced quickly around them before continuing, his voice low but with a sharp edge to it. "Now _you_, _tithen_ _pen_ have some talking to do," he hissed. "Your _adar_ has no idea that you are here, does he?"

Legolas licked his lips and swallowed hard.

"Well? I'm waiting."

Tûrin whipped his head, back and forth between them, confusion written all over his face.

"No. He doesn't," Legolas admitted.

"What! What is he talking about, Rissien?"

"He is here without permission, Captain. I think that is easy enough to decipher. The King never gave his leave and somehow, some way, Legolas managed to convince Ivran to allow him to come. We are dead, you and I both, once the King finds out."

"He will not blame you - "

"Orc spit!" Rissien broke in, leaning close, his breath hot on Legolas's cheek. "How can you be so stupid? Of course he will blame us. And he will blame Ivran and Ellarian and Galvreth, and I wouldn't be surprised if he blames Lord Elrond, the twins and Glorfindel, as well. I'm positive he will blame the _adan_ – he is fond of men only so much as they provide him with wine. We are all dead, Legolas and you, _tithen Caun_, will find yourself relegated to your bed chamber for the next decade, and the palace for the rest of your born days." Rissien was breathing hard after his rant and a sheen of sweat had broken out on Tûrin's brow.

Legolas drew himself up. "I will not say I'm sorry. I am not. Nothing has changed from the argument I made to you before except that you now know I wasn't supposed to be here at all. But _Adar_ would have been angry, no matter what. He will only be a little angrier, if he finds out."

"A _little_ angrier? Thranduil does nothing _little_, Legolas," Rissien spat.

Tûrin at last managed to come out of his trance and placed a restraining hand on the shoulder of the furious guard. "Let me handle this," he said, then leaned close so that his face was inches from Legolas's. "You will do exactly as we say, as long as we are here. You will stay with us at all times. You will not leave our sight. Is that understood?"

"Understood," Legolas answered, contrite but gritting his teeth at the same time.

"I mean it, 'Las," Tûrin warned. "We will tie you to your bunk if you do not obey us in this. _Ai_! I don't know whom I fear to face more if you get yourself into trouble, your father or your brothers," he said, shaking his head. "How could you do this? How could you do this to them? To us!"

"Because I really, really want this chance."

"Well, you are going to get it," Rissien growled, pushing past his errant Prince and heading up the path toward the barracks. "And I mean that in every possible way, _tithen_ _pen_," he threw back over his shoulder.

"I thought no more _tithen pen_," Legolas grumbled under his breath but he immediately clamped his mouth shut when Rissien growled again from up the path and he caught the dark look on Tûrin's face before he too turned to storm up the path after Rissien. They would not be jesting again anytime in the foreseeable future, Legolas realized with a pang. He had not meant to get his friends in trouble or to cause them anguish or anger. He had a lot to make up for and winning the contest was the one sure way he could do it.

~*~

Dictionary:

_Adan _- Man

_penneth _- young one

_Adar _- father

_Naneth _- mother

_Ellith _- female Elf, plural

_tithen pen_ – little one

_tithen Caun_ – little prince

_mellon nîn_ – my friend


	6. Chapter 6

Standard disclaimer – not mine, no money, just for fun

Thanks to all who are reading and as always, thank you for your wonderful and kind reviews!! This chapter is a little slow so please bear with me – it's necessary - as Legolas would say, I swear it! Thanks, too, to my beta, Sarah – you are the greatest!

Chapter 6

List of OC's:

Galvreth – Thranduil's closest advisor and friend

Ivran – Legolas's oldest brother, the Crown Prince of Mirkwood

Ellarian – Legolas's middle brother

Tûrin – Captain of the Mirkwood Home Guard and friend of Legolas

Rissien – Lieutenant of the Mirkwood Home Guard and friend of Legolas

Tathar – Mirkwood's greatest archer, set to compete in an archery competition in Imladris that takes place every 100 years

~*~

The next day, they all paid a quick visit to the recuperating Tathar. The Elf was still pale and lines of pain formed regularly around his lips and across his forehead when he attempted to shift on the bed. Lord Elrond assured them again that their Prince would heal and in good time. After he left and they were alone, Legolas was subjected to a speech from the wounded archer, bordering on scalding, as to his part in their current drama. He allowed the scolding to continue until pain and exhaustion at last stilled the fuming Elf.

He raised his hands in supplication. "I am sorry, Tathar," he said. "I did not plan for this to happen. You must know that. I knew you would not be able to compete and when the opportunity for me to replace you presented itself, I took it. I think I can win, otherwise, I wouldn't have done it."

"And if you win? What then? Do you win as me, or as you, Legolas?"

"I will be found out eventually, of course."

"Why? We are the only Mirkwood Elves here and if no one has discovered you thus far then you might make it through the contest as me. I will keep silent. I have already agreed to do so. But if you win and are not discovered then I demand that you promise, all of you, to keep it that way. I will go home victorious, Prince, not you." Legolas was struck speechless and could only gasp at the archer's demand. "I care not what you threaten Tûrin," Tathar warned as his eyes flicked to the Elf standing at Legolas's side. "I will take whatever punishment the King doles out. Promise me this, or I will tell all now and your chance to compete will come to an end."

Legolas felt his heart sink to the pits of his stomach. All of his hopes were riding on winning this tournament and telling his _Adar_ of his victory. If he did not do this, he would lose any chance of breaking away from his assignment as Ivran's advisor. But there was nothing he could do. If Tathar exposed him now, he would not be allowed to compete and nothing would come of it. This way, he would at least have the knowledge of his win to comfort him in his suffering.

All at once, Rissien stepped close to the bed. Placing one hand on each side of Tathar, he leaned in so close his breath fanned the hairs back from the archer's face as he hissed, "I think not, my friend, but I am impressed with your attempts. If you insist on Legolas making you this promise, you will be sorry. You are right, the King would not punish you too severely for taking his wine or borrowing his stallion. But he would punish you indeed for allowing his youngest to be injured. If you are the one in the competition then it must truly be Legolas lying on this bed, wounded. And how was he injured? Because of you, Tathar. That is the story that Thranduil will hear from our lips – you failed in your duty to protect the Prince and as a result, he was skewered by an arrow, fell from his horse and received a serious concussion. You were solely at fault in this, both Tûrin and myself will attest to it. Trust me in this, Tathar; your return will not be celebrated.

"And if you choose to open your mouth now, I would advise against it. It is unlikely that you will make the return trip to Mirkwood unscathed. How very unlucky you will be, my friend – injured going _and_ coming. You must truly be cursed." The already pale Elf had paled further and he shrank from the hot breath on his cheek and the cold, piercing stare that cut into him like a knife.

"What say you, Tathar," Tûrin said. He had not moved from Legolas's side, but the tone of his voice was just as menacing from a distance as Rissien's was up close. The archer tore his eyes from Rissien's to glance at Tûrin then back to Rissien again. He gulped.

"Very well," he said, his voice small and shuddering. "I will say nothing, and - and if Legolas were to win, I would allow the truth to be told."

"Good," Rissien stated. He stood up and moved briskly toward the door. "We have practicing to do. Come, Legolas." Tathar had closed his eyes once Rissien had risen from the bed but just as Legolas turned to follow his Captain and guard, the dark eyes of the archer flew open and Legolas caught a glimpse of something that sent a shiver down his back – hatred burned there, the likes of which he had never seen in an Elf before. And it was directed at him.

"What was that all about?" Legolas queried as they made their way to breakfast.

"He knows that if you win, he will not be representing Mirkwood ever again in a contest," Tûrin answered. "This will be his only chance to be known as the greatest archer from Mirkwood. If you lose and are exposed, then he can perhaps compete again next year, depending on how much Thranduil deems him to be at fault.

"Probably not much since he was unconscious when the decision was made to attempt this folly," Rissien muttered, glancing at Legolas.

"But, if I win, what of next year when he would be expected to compete again as Mirkwood's greatest archer?" Legolas asked, ignoring the look.

"He would have to come up with some reason why he couldn't, obviously. And he has assured, too, that you will never compete again, either, 'Las. You would not, or everyone will know this was a sham. It would be the same as breaking your promise, which I think he knows you well enough to know you would not allow any of us to do, once we made it."

It didn't take long for Legolas to shake the bad feeling the encounter with Tathar had engendered; archery practice always had that effect on him. Mindful of his promises to his friends, he passed the day dutifully at the archery fields. He had been steadfast too, the night before, when during the evening meal, Estel had put together a scheme to spirit them away unnoticed so they might have a chance to do some adventuring on their own. Legolas had, with great difficulty, stayed his course and turned down the offer. When practice was over, late in the afternoon, though, he had not been so firm in his convictions. Tûrin and Rissien had allowed him to return to the barracks ahead of them to bathe for dinner and rest. An excited Estel waylaid him before he reached his destination.

"There is a new colt born at the stables," the young man said, wide eyed. "Come and see, Tathar – surely your keepers would not have difficulty with that, now would they? It's just over there." Legolas allowed himself, without complaint, to be dragged from the barracks and across the paddock that separated the soldier's quarters from the nearby stables.

"His sire is Ada's stallion Templa. He is of the same bloodlines as the Mearas," Estel said as they both wrapped arms around the highest rung of the stall's gate. The colt was beautiful – wobbly legged and still damp, it huddled up close to its mother, watching the two awestruck young ones with dark, liquid eyes. They talked while they watched and in no time, Legolas felt a surprising sense of comfortable camaraderie in the man's presence. There were few that he could say that about and never had he achieved it in so short a time. And never with an_ adan_. In fact, so intent on their conversation were they both that they heard nothing of the pandemonium being raised in the surrounding compound, not until the stable door flew open and one of the twins filled the doorway, hair flying wildly around his head as if he had been running.

"There you are!" he all but shouted. "Tûrin and Rissien have been beside themselves with panic trying to locate you, _penneth_!"

"We are just here, Elrohir. Calm yourself," Estel demanded with a touch of irritation. He had been enjoying the conversation too and the twin's intrusion had frightened the foal.

"I'm not the one concerned, trust me, little brother," Elrohir said as he joined them at the gate to the stall. "Your guards take their charge quite seriously, Tathar, much more so even than they take their watch over the Prince. I must say, I find it strange." Elrohir cocked his head and regarded Legolas, carefully. Serious mithril-shot eyes bore into Legolas's own and he felt fear skirt up his spine. He wanted to pull away from those eyes, to back away completely, in fact, but found himself rooted to the spot where he stood. This Elf knew Ellarian, how well, Legolas had no idea, but such close review could mean that he sensed something familiar which might lead to suspicion, questions and subsequent discovery.

With a not quite imperceptible shudder, Legolas forced himself away. Turning to Estel, he bestowed a quick bow. "I am sorry but I need to go now. Thank you for showing me the foal – he is indeed beautiful." He turned back to Elrohir. "I apologize for causing trouble. They are responsible for me and things would not go easy on them if anything were to happen to me. We may be in Imladris but our senses have been honed by life in Mirkwood and no place there, other than within the palace walls themselves, would ever be considered safe."

"No trouble at all, Tathar. They will need to learn that Imladris is safe from the evils that you are used to. I only wish you and Estel would be able to spend more time together. I haven't seen him smile this much in months. It is a welcome change." Legolas returned his attention once more to Estel who was still observing the foal. It was all Legolas could do not to ask the question that chased through his head – and just why is it so difficult for you to smile? But he had been crass and quick with questions too much already on this visit – he was better trained than that – and so clamped his mouth shut and gave his newly found friend a warm smile. "I wish that too," he said, instead. "I do not often get to spend time with someone younger than myself." Elrohir laughed out loud at that, causing Legolas's smile to bleed into a frown.

"What?" he asked.

"Younger than you?"

"Well, of course," Legolas huffed. "I am an Elf. I am – of course I am older than he is!" He said, indignantly.

"Perhaps, _penneth_, but I would not be surprised if he is the older between you, though close in age you may be."

"That is ludicrous, Elrohir. I don't know much about men but I'm quite certain he can't have seen more than twenty years. Trust me. I am older than that."

"Perhaps, _penneth_." Elrohir repeated. "Perhaps you beat him if discussing years on earth, but if we were to compare Elf years to human years? I think not."

Estel's attention had swung back around to his friend and his brother, a smile planted firmly on his face. "You could solve this question _mellon nîn_, once and for all, if you just told us your age," Estel chuckled, trying at the same time to wipe the grin from his face.

"I will not," Legolas muttered as he swept past Elrohir and headed for the door to the stable. "I don't understand this unending interest in my age. I am no Elfling." He spoke with an angry edge to his voice but it wasn't so much anger he felt as it was fear that all of this talk of his youth might somehow lead to his discovery. There were painfully few Elves near his age in Mirkwood, nay, in all of Middle Earth, more than likely, and if that were not enough of a clue to his identity, an archer of Tathar's renown would not be as young as Legolas was. If he were to lie and say he was older, the twins' and Estel's conniving and scheming might easily catch him out. But his petulant anger did not help his case and the two behind him merely laughed out loud, a bright, merry sound that continued to ring in his ears even after the stable door closed and he could hear no longer.

Tûrin and Rissien were not laughing when he arrived back at the barracks and as his punishment, he was sent to bed. Not without supper of course for that would never do when the tournament was the next day, but he was forced to eat alone and in bed, threatened that his feet were not to touch the floor under any circumstances. They were not stupid, though and followed that his posterior was also not to be separated from his mattress, nor was the mattress to be separated from the cot, nor was the cot to be removed from the room. There was to be a feast replete with dancing for the opening of the tournament, which Legolas would be missing. Tûrin and Rissien refused to be punished along with their troublesome charge, however, and feeling that they had adequately covered all possible avenues of escape, headed to the feast after commanding Legolas to obey, threatening to turn him in if he didn't and then setting a guard at each door in case the threats did not work and the promises were broken.

The guards were to be on lookout for someone attempting escape, however, not someone breaking in, so Estel had no trouble joining Legolas in his solitary dinner, clambering through an open window with enough ease that it was likely not the first time he had entered the building by such a route. "You are missing the dance," Legolas pointed out as they both tucked into their food.

"Mmf," Estel answered, not looking the least bit concerned about it as he inelegantly shovelled food into his mouth, as if he hadn't had a meal in a week, or maybe two.

"But won't the beautiful Arwen be there?"

"Mmm."

"Estel?"

"Hmm?"

"Stop eating for two seconds and answer me. I feel guilty that you are here with me and not enjoying yourself at the dance."

"Nonsense, Tathar. I am where I want to be and until you made me stop eating, I was enjoying myself, immensely. And the lady Arwen will have no interest in me. I am a simple_ Adan_, not an Elf, in case you hadn't noticed and there would be no reason for her to want anything to do with me with the greatest Elven archers in all of Middle Earth chasing after her."

"Perhaps, Estel. However, though it is true that I have met few_Edain_ in my life, I can still say with some degree of certainty that _you_ are not _simple_."

"Would that be a compliment, Wood Elf?"

Legolas grinned. "I would no more call you simple than I would call myself complicated. There is something more to you, Estel, something more than you let on. I see it in the way you hold yourself, your ease and confidence, how you take the time to listen to others and to the world around you. It is not just your skill or your bearing though. There is more to you than meets the eye, I believe. Yes - you are far from simple."

"Why, I do believe that _is_ a compliment, Tathar. Yes, I am quite the mystery, I will admit to it. And since we are trading accolades, I believe there is something more to you, as well, aside from your amazing skill with a bow. I can't quite put my finger on it, either. It is something in your demeanour that bespeaks of more than what you let on to be. And I don't care what you say, _penneth_, you are a _penneth_, like it or not. I have a feeling that if you were to tell the truth, I would be shocked by just how young you are and amazed that one so young could display such prowess with a bow. Perhaps someday we will both feel comfortable enough to tell one another our secrets." Legolas felt a sudden desire to do just that – to tell this_ adan_ everything. A noisy clamour at the door stopped him.

Half a dozen archers, ending their evening early, entered the room. They gave the pair huddled on the bed wary greetings and hesitant goodnights before moving to their own bunks, all but one who had been with Haldir and his brothers earlier and had spoken the words that had angered everyone. He sauntered over to where the two relaxed on Legolas's bed and slouched against one of the support columns that bisected the room at regular intervals, crossing his arms and cocking his head at them.

"Ah, so you have been sent to bed early, eh little Elf?" he smirked. "Not without your dinner though I see, how thoughtful your champions are. I find it interesting, little Elf that your Prince does not seem to care enough to check up on you, though. Oh, that is right, I forgot," the Elf sneered. "He fell off of his horse and hit his head, didn't he? Not surprising for I had heard he was something of a disappointment to his family – that his skills are far from satisfactory. Are the rumours about him, true then? They would explain his lack of coordination…" Estel rose quickly to his feet and approached the slouching Elf, fists at the ready. Legolas took to his feet too, bewildered at the Elf's words. How could being part Silvan cause him to have a lack of coordination?

"I will put up with your talk about me, Surin, but you are besmirching now the names of those better than you. Hold your tongue or I will personally see that you are removed from the contest and from Imladris. You are no fit representative of Lórien if you continue in this vein."

The Elf straightened and waving a hand said, with a snort, "Calm yourself, Estel. I was merely seeing what sort of backbone this _penneth_ had. Obviously none if he requires a human to stand up for him. I think that speaks well of my chances tomorrow, now, doesn't it? He will likely wilt under the pressure." The Elf snorted again and the others behind him snickered. He spun on his heel and returned to his bunk, which thankfully, was on the opposite side of the barracks from Legolas's.

Estel watched them until they settled themselves before returning to sit on the bunk, patting the spot next to him as he said, "Do not mind them, Tathar. They don't like me, either. I believe that reflects positively on my character." He smiled but Legolas noted that the smile did not reach his eyes.

Legolas followed slowly, glancing back at the group of Elves now laughing quietly among themselves. "What was he talking about?" he asked. "What rumours?"

Estel shrugged. "Nothing that matters, _mellon nîn_. Do not even give it a moment of your worry. Surin is an idiot. Not all of the Lorien Elves are like him though - Haldir is not a bad one, he is just mistrustful of those different from himself. I think that one day he will learn how wrong he is and he will change. He is not above admitting when he is wrong. On the other hand, Surin will always be an idiot. I am a human raised among Elves. I have long ago learned to concentrate on the Haldirs and let the Surins roll by me."

"You were hardly letting him roll by, Estel. I think you would have gladly come to fisticuffs had Elrohir not stopped you yesterday. What stopped you now?"

Estel was silent for a moment, his eyes narrowed, a scowl on his face. "I have learned to pick my fights, Tathar. I would not want to risk something happening to you before the contest tomorrow," he said. "That is where you will show them all up. Of that I have no doubt." The scowl turned to a grin and he chuckled. "And besides, there are six of them and two of us. The guards would likely aid us but I do not think we would come out of it without at least a bruise and then I would have to admit to my _Adar_ that I had been fighting. He tries so hard to teach me the skills and temperament of a prince of his house but I fear such efforts are lost on me."

"Apparently not, Estel. We did not fight and we are not bruised. There is hope."

Estel took his leave shortly after and with the other Elves bent on ignoring him, Legolas soon found himself alone with his thoughts. The next day would be an important one – he would soon discover if he could hold his own among the other archers. In the darkness, gazing at the flickering shadows as they danced across the ceiling above his bed, he remembered Estel's words - _there is hope_. His new friend might offer him more than a name with that meaning. With his friendship had come a feeling of strength and confidence the likes of which Legolas had never before known. He felt his limbs relax as he passed into the waking dreams of Elven sleep, looking forward to the coming day.

~*~

Dictionary:

_Penneth _– young one

_Naneth _- mother

_Adar _- father

_Adan _- man

_tithen pen_ – little one

_mellon nîn_ – my friend


	7. Chapter 7

Standard disclaimer – not mine, no money, just for fun

Thanks to everyone for reading and extra special thanks for all of the reviews – it is so wonderful to know that someone is reading and enjoying! Thanks, as always, to Sarah for her dedicated beta work - I wouldn't be doing this without her.

List of OC's:

Galvreth – Thranduil's closest advisor and friend

Ivran – Legolas's oldest brother, the Crown Prince of Mirkwood

Ellarian – Legolas's middle brother

Tûrin – Captain of the Mirkwood Home Guard and friend of Legolas

Rissien – Lieutenant of the Mirkwood Home Guard and friend of Legolas

Tathar – Mirkwood's greatest archer, set to compete in an archery competition in Imladris that takes place every 100 years

~*~

Chapter 7

The day came and went quickly, the contest taking up all of it. There were more than 30 participants and it took seemingly forever to pare the list down to a more reasonable number. Legolas made it through the first cut with ease, hitting every target square in the bull's-eye, no matter the distance, even splitting several of his arrows. No other Elf had seen the same success; only Haldir had even come close. But the next day's shooting would be from horseback, something that he had never been given any formal instruction at, his father having whisked him away to begin his career as advisor to Ivran before his archery teacher could move him to the next phase of training. He had continued to practice on his own after that but without formal tutelage, he had no doubt that his form would be found to be lacking. He knew he would continue to hit targets but the judging would take into account standards based on more than just that.

Knowing that his mount was headstrong and difficult, Legolas requested that he be allowed to visit the stables and speak with Harma before heading to dinner. He would need all of the help he could get if he hoped to be successful. Tûrin approved the visit but with Rissien in tow. Legolas grimaced – the grumbling guard would not help with his intent of calming his already high-strung horse. But he had no choice in the matter so, with a frustrated sigh, he led them down the darkening path, admonishing Rissien along the way.

"You stay outside. You will only irritate Harma and my whole purpose in going is to calm him and convince him to be on his best behaviour tomorrow. Understand?"

"If you think for one minute that I am leaving you alone, you have lost your mind, _tithen pen_. If you disappear on me, Tûrin will see that I have night duty for the rest of the century."

"You will be just outside of the door! You are being absurd. All I did was go to the stable. It is not like I ran away…"

"It matters not, Legolas. I'm going with you."

"_Tathar_!" Legolas hissed under his breath, though there was no one nearby to hear. It was now dusk and most Elves had taken themselves to the baths, or to dinner.

"You are lucky I don't call you Legolas _Thranduilion_, _penneth_. You have made me quite angry as I tally the number of things that I will not be doing for the next hundred years or so, thanks to you. Such as eating, drinking, breathing…" Rissien said, counting off each by raising a finger in the air, as he spoke. "I am dead, _tithen pen_, and you have killed me."

Legolas rolled his eyes and shook his head, groaning. "You are overreacting. It will not be that bad. If I can't protect you, surely Ivran and Ellarian can. And Galvreth, too. He helped to convince Ivran to allow me to come."

"Yes, _Legolas. _You will take all of us with you, when you fall. I have no doubt of that." This time, Legolas's groan was covered by the bang of the stable door against the wall as he flung it open with quite a bit more force than he had intended.

"And you are worried about _me_ upsetting your horse," Rissien commented, dryly, as they entered the stable. It was even darker inside than out and it took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the absence of light. Something was amiss, Legolas could sense at once and the sight of horse's meandering about in the corridor outside of their stalls, once he could see clearly, proved him right. Rissien tensed behind him and the sound of metal sliding against metal as the guard pulled his sword from its sheath rang out in the silence. "Get behind, me, Legolas. Now!" he hissed. Legolas did not so much disobey the order as embellish upon it – while he backed toward Rissien he also pulled an arrow swiftly from his quiver and nocked his bow. Rissien growled, "Behind me, I said!"

A soft sound made Legolas look up in time to see a dark shape in the rafters of the stable. He had only a second to react and it wasn't enough – something large struck him hard in the chest and knocked him to the ground. He had a momentary struggle with what appeared to be a bag of feed; his efforts to free himself further thwarted by an all-consuming desire to sneeze, which he somehow managed to control. With great effort he finally disentangled himself, flinging the heavy bag to the side before rolling in the opposite direction and drawing his legs up into a low crouch. He could see that the door at the opposite end of the aisle stood open, casting a sliver of light that illuminated the stable in varying and dusty shades of light and dark

Simultaneously, Legolas became aware of two things; one - the sliver of light was obliterated as something moved through the open doorway and two - a complete and utter stillness emanated from behind him where Rissien had been standing. It took him not even a breath to decide which to concern himself with. After glancing around him to ensure that there were no more dark figures toting heavy bags, or worse yet, he turned his attention to the silent figure at his back. Rissien lay sprawled on the floor, unmoving. Legolas crawled to his side and felt desperately for a pulse at the guard's neck. He was rewarded with a strong one and made no attempt to hide his sigh of relief. As if that sound had brought him to his senses, his friend's eyes fluttered open.

"Are you all right?" Legolas asked, leaning closer, trying to determine what had happened to lay the Elf out.

"Fine," Rissien muttered, wiping a shaking hand across his face. "You knocked me down when you fell. Hit my head. Mmf!" He sat up quickly, rubbing the back of his head, his not quite alert eyes darting about the shadowed stable. With sudden clarity, he placed a firm hand at the small of Legolas's back, bending him in half so that he was lying diagonally across the guard's lap. At the same time, Rissien slid smoothly out from beneath his charge and stood, using the hand he still held to Legolas's back as both a springboard to push off against and an encouragement for the Elf to stay down. "Do not move, _Ernil nîn_. And do not argue."

Legolas had no intention of arguing – that would be a waste of words. Instead, he acted, launching to his feet as soon as the hand was no longer holding him down, joining Rissien at his side. "He went out of the door, there," he said, pointing while ignoring the dark look that the guard shot him. "There could be others, though."

"What happened?" Rissien whispered, eyes darting around the stable, resigned to the fact that he would not easily get Legolas to stay back, knowing, too, that his charge had information that he needed. He chose instead to satisfy himself with a not gentle shove to Legolas's hip as he forced the young Elf behind him.

"Given that the stall doors are open and the horses out, I would assume they are thieves," Legolas conjectured, allowing the shove without resistance. "I think they have gone. I sense no one in here save the two of us and the animals."

"Aye," Rissien agreed. They moved further into the aisle. Manoeuvring between the horses milling about, they gradually made their way to the opposite end of the stable. Rissien peered cautiously through the open door. Several horses stood outside, as well and Legolas could see over Rissien's shoulder that more horses were running across the field behind the stables. He could see no sign of any person, Elf or otherwise.

Rissien rubbed the bump on his head again before turning back to the stable. We need to get these horses rounded up. Come. Let's get some help. Someone will have to chase the ones that have gotten out of the stable too and we can't do it all. Lord Elrond needs to be told…"

"What is going on here?" a voice cried from behind as several Elves came running from around the side of the stable. "Why are you letting the horses out?" A tall Elf that Legolas knew to be one of the stable hands glared accusingly at Rissien and Legolas.

"We did not, you fool!" Rissien growled. "Someone else was here. We know not who. We need to get these animals rounded up, inside and out."

"I will help gather those that have escaped," Legolas said. "You should not ride with that bump on your head." Legolas made to step back into the stable to get Harma but Rissien's iron grip around his wrist held him firmly in place.

"Nay, my friend. You will stay here with me. It is the job of these Elves to keep track of the stables. Let them."

The stable hand's accusing look turned to one of deep dislike as he flicked his wrist at the other Elves standing and staring. "Find a mount and let us go. I recognize some of our lord's most prized possessions loose here and I'm sure some of the mounts for the archery contest tomorrow will be gone as well. You two had better hope none have come to harm," the stable hand said, returning his attention to Rissien. "Or suspicion might keep you from your chance at a win, should it fall upon your heads."

"What did you say?" Rissien breathed as he took a step closer to the angry Elf, his hands balling into fists.

"You heard me," the stable hand sniffed.

Legolas placed a calming hand on Rissien's shoulder, though he too felt nothing but anger, his tempered by shock that anyone would even consider that they had done such a thing. That shock was almost as bad as the one that followed shortly after as he realized just how easy it would be to believe. Another stable hand appeared behind them, having entered through the door Legolas and Rissien had used. He was wide-eyed and near terrified.

"Templa is gone!" he cried and then pointed past Legolas's and Rissien's shoulders toward the horses that were now past the paddock and moving toward the low hills in the distance.

"Well, don't just stand there," the one in charge, shouted. "Go after him! _Ai_! I'll be reduced to mucking out stables for a century if that one escapes! Go!" Legolas watched them head out with a sinking heart, wondering if Elrond's anger at the loss of his prized stallion might make him more willing to believe in the Mirkwood Elves' duplicity should the animal be injured. This had the makings of an incident that could impact relations between Imladris and Mirkwood. Legolas's future aspirations as a warrior would mean nothing if such a thing should occur and he would never live it down if his _adar_ found him to be responsible, which, rightly or wrongly, he would.

After working into the evening, the horses were at last gathered and examined for injuries before being put back in stalls. The next morning at breakfast, Legolas's worst fears were realized as the clamour of voices in the dining hall dropped to hushed whispering when he and the rest of his group entered and all eyes were upon them as they made their way to an empty table. Estel and the twins wasted no time joining them, however, and assuring them that Lord Elrond not only did not believe the rumours but had, in no uncertain terms, made it clear that such talk would not be tolerated, insisting that the perpetrators were after his prize stallion and foal, something that the Elves of Mirkwood would have no interest in.

"In fact," Elladan further pointed out in a voice that carried across the still too quiet room. "The idea that any of you would be out to frighten or injure the other contestant's horses is ludicrous, at best." He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. "If Tathar were behind in the scores, perhaps it would make sense but as it is, he is the only one in the contest above reproach. Even those that failed to make it to the next round are not in the clear as one of them might be a little less than accepting of his lot in life and might seek to punish those with greater skill."

Slow smiles spread across the faces at the table and all began to tuck into their food in earnest, all but Legolas that is. As the voices picked up once more in the hall and his friends were happily eating and visiting, Legolas felt pressure building in the pit of his stomach unlike any he had felt up to now. What if he did not perform well today? The tide of thought might yet turn against him once it was discovered that his skill at shooting from horseback proved sorely lacking. He spent the meal picking at his food and avoiding Estel's concerned gaze, imagining in his mind how those eyes would look clouded with suspicion.

The number of participants had been reduced to 20 after the first day's scores, 20 of the best archers in all of Middle Earth. And it was clear that their skills were going to be tested to the utmost, as the day's events would be a challenge to all but the best. Their task was to shoot arrows at a stationary target in the centre of a ring, while the horse raced around it in a tight circle. They would be graded on accuracy and time to complete the circle so their skill at shooting would be matched with their skill at horsemanship. Legolas again felt keenly his lack of training as the Elves lined up on their steeds. Legolas's mount was anything but calm as they waited their turn. He struggled to hold the horse in check as Harma continually sidestepped out of line, first in one direction, then the other.

The other Elves eyed him warily, some in outright anger. "You should learn to control that horse, Tathar," one had chastised him. "He's making our mounts nervous." Legolas could only apologize. Harma was acting even more jittery than normal and he began to seriously worry for his chances. As his score had been the highest from the previous day, he was given the last shooting slot and by the time his turn arrived, his own nerves were frazzled along with those of his horse.

He took his place at the entrance to the large corral that had been set up for this part of the competition. An Elf, sitting atop the fence held a hand up in the air, watching while a fresh, straw filled dummy was affixed to the pole in the centre of the field. Legolas waited, patiently, drawing again on that inner strength that he had always been able to rely upon to calm him. His horse however felt none of that calmness, shying first left and then right with each press of Legolas's knee. Before he could make yet another attempt to calm the animal, the Elf's hand came down.

Legolas gave Harma a slight kick and the horse surged into the ring, almost as if he were relieved to at last be allowed to run. His speed was indeed great and Legolas had to hang on tightly with his knees as the target came into view. As soon as he squeezed though, Harma bucked and kicked, throwing Legolas first forward, then backward. He was still able to compensate and his arrow embedded itself at what would have been the heart had the target been a person. He lowered himself to grasp Harma around the neck and whispered soothing words in the horse's ear as he urged him quickly around the target and back to the end of the ring again.

Nine more times he would have to circle the horse and shoot the target and already the animal had nearly thrown him. Well aware that time counted almost as much as accuracy, Legolas gave the horse another slight kick and hung on for dear life. Each turn around the dummy got progressively worse with Harma's bucking and rearing slowing him terribly. Legolas had no doubt that he would lose the time portion of the competition but his accuracy had, thus far, been nothing short of perfect. He was splitting the arrows he had landed on previous rounds, each penetrating where the heart would have been located.

On the last round, Harma seemed to have at last reached the end of his endurance. As Legolas prepared to take his final shot, the horse reared completely back, forcing him to hang on with nothing more than his knees as he fired. The animal then immediately kicked out with his back legs and veered off to the side causing Legolas to lose all control. His body continued its forward motion and he felt nothing but air beneath him – air at first that is, just before his body struck the hard, packed earth of the ring.

"I am not disqualified, am I?" he cried out, coughing and sputtering as he tried to rise, pushing off with his right hand. Pain shot through his wrist and he fell back again, face first into the dirt, unable to stifle a moan. Pain gave way to a sense of panic, however, and he made another try at taking his feet, this time using his left hand to push off with. "Please tell me I am not disqualified!" he repeated, a desperate edge to his voice even though he had no idea if anyone was close enough to hear him.

Glorfindel appeared at his side and halted his second attempt to get to his feet with a firm hand to his shoulder forcing him back to the ground. "Nay, _penneth_," the golden-haired warrior soothed. "Stay still until we can look you over." It was then that Legolas became aware of the small crowd gathered around him and his fear that he would lose the tournament was immediately replaced by shame and embarrassment. Glorfindel knelt in the dirt at his side, keeping a hand locked on his shoulder as if he might again attempt to rise. "Be at peace, _penneth_. You are not disqualified. You did not fall until after you completed your run, though I must say, I do not see how you managed to stay on that warg of a horse. What possessed you to bring such an unruly creature along as your mount?"

"He is not usually like that, my lord. I swear it! I don't know what has gotten into him today."

A hand came into Legolas's view and grasped Glorfindel by the shoulder. The blond warrior stood, giving way to Lord Elrond himself. "Are you injured?" he asked, concerned eyes sweeping Legolas up and down.

"His wrist is hurt, my lord," Glorfindel said.

"Let me see, _penneth_," the Lord of Imladris commanded. Legolas was reminded of the insistent healers in Mirkwood and realized that they could take more than a few lessons from the Lord of Imladris – refusal was not an option. He gulped, putting aside any fear he had that Elrond might somehow identify him and held forth his wrist without complaint. It was already turning several shades of purple. The healer gingerly felt the bone, stopping when Legolas hissed in pain.

"I am sorry," he said quietly, capturing Legolas's eyes with his own kindly gaze. Legolas found it impossible to shy away. They had a decidedly calming effect and he felt his heart rate begin to slow and his breathing become even again. "I do not think it is broken but it is more than likely sprained," Elrond continued, gently rotating Legolas's hand. Again, Legolas could not quite bite back a gasp of pain and Elrond desisted at once. "It is good that tomorrow is a rest day. There is a chance you will again be fit to compete when it is time to begin the tournament once more. I would not force it, however." The kind eyes turned stern.

"I – I can shoot with my left," Legolas stammered.

"But you will still need to steady the bow with your right. Your injured wrist would still bear a burden. I will check it on the morrow and we will see."

"I must compete, my lord. It matters not how it feels." Elrond's piercing eyes leant closer and it was all Legolas could do not to pull away.

"We shall see, on the morrow," he said with a finality that brooked no argument. Do you hurt anywhere else? Can you stand?"

"I – I am fine. I have no other pain."

"My lord?" Glorfindel's blond head appeared over Elrond's shoulder.

"Yes," Elrond answered though his eyes did not leave Legolas's face.

"There is something that you need to see."

Elrond paused for a moment longer before gently placing the wrist he still held in Legolas's lap. "Elladan will get you a wrist-guard that will keep you from bending that unnecessarily and allow it to rest and recuperate. He stood but not before patting Legolas on the shoulder and once again his eyes turned kindly. "If you need anything for the pain, please do not hesitate to let me know, or Elladan if you are more comfortable with him. I know you have all become friends."

"I thank you, my lord. I will be fine, I'm sure."

Elrond smiled again before turning to join Glorfindel. They strode purposefully across the field, their heads, one dark, one burnished gold, close together as they walked. Legolas tracked their movements though Elladan and Elrohir dropped to their knees, one on each side. Tûrin, Rissien and Estel crowded in too, blocking his view.

"What are they doing?" Legolas queried, struggling to see between the half dozen legs that suddenly surrounded him.

Rissien threw a glance over his shoulder and answered, "They are looking at Harma. Probably deciding whether to shoot him now or wait for me to do it."

"That is not funny," Legolas said.

"I did not intend it to be," Rissien shot back. "You could have been killed."

"I'll go see what they are talking about," Estel said. Legolas gave him a thankful look and the man returned it with a smile. "I'll be back as soon as I wrangle something out of one, or the both of them."

Elladan placed what appeared to be an overly long bracer on Legolas's wrist, lacing it up loosely. It was stiff like a guard would be but it extended down past the wrist and covered most of Legolas's hand, his fingers the only thing left uncovered. He found it impossible to bend his wrist. He frowned but Elladan narrowed his eyes and drew his lips into a thin, tight line making it perfectly obvious that as long as he was around, the guard would stay put. Legolas gave an audible sigh but followed it with a nod of his head, accepting the inevitable.

"Come, _mellon nîn_," Elrohir said, standing smoothly and reaching a hand down to help Legolas up. Legolas grasped it with his good hand and soon found Elladan's under his elbow on his wounded side, supporting him as he stood.

"Nothing else is injured, is it?" Elladan asked stepping back to assess Legolas's stance.

"No, no, only my pride. I have never fallen from my horse."

"And I know why you did this time," an eager Estel announced as he strode toward the small group.

"What did you discover," Elladan asked, still keeping a steadying hand under Legolas's elbow which the young Elf found he appreciated as the task of standing had sent the blood rushing from his head and black spots dancing before his eyes.

"Tathar's comment about Harma being unusually difficult combined with the trouble at the stables yesterday evening set Glorfindel wondering so he went to check over Tathar's horse. He found a burr right at the point where Tathar's knee would be placed to direct the horse, something he would have to do when simply riding and even more so when directing Harma around the target." He turned and faced Legolas then. "It was flattened on one side so you would not feel it and was of a similar colour to the horse's coat so it would not be easily visible unless looked for. Even if you had found it, I wouldn't imagine you would be suspicious."

"So why _are_ you suspicious?" Rissien asked. "It might be simply a burr and if Tathar had curried his horse last night like he should have, it would have been discovered and removed."

"Tathar failed to curry Harma last night because of all of the excitement with the escaped horses and the level of discomfort with him being anywhere near the stables after the idea was bandied about that he was responsible," Tûrin defended.

"I meant not to be critical, _mellon nîn_. I was just pointing out facts," Rissien responded.

"But that might have been part of the plan," Estel interrupted. "The horses were let go, not to steal Templa but to cover up the culprit's escape and also to make it more likely that we would be too busy rounding up escapees to have time to groom them later. Suspicion falling on Tathar was an added bonus.

"You never answered my question," Rissien broke in. "Why _are_ you suspicious? It could be just a burr and you are making this into something when it is nothing."

"Perhaps we are," Estel nodded, shooting Legolas a disarming smile when he saw the archer's brow crease at the guard's freely expressed scepticism. "It seems too convenient that a burr ended up in a place that would make controlling the horse a challenge, at best." Legolas noticed the slight darkening of the_ adan_'s eyes and he wondered if there was something more to the story. Estel smiled again before flicking his eyes quickly to each of his brothers, in turn. It was no more than a passing glance but it was enough that Legolas's own suspicion was fuelled. There was something more that Estel knew, something that he had no intention of saying in front of the Mirkwood contingent.

"Well, their plan, if it was a plan, may yet have worked if Tathar cannot compete in a day's time," Tûrin pointed out.

"I will compete, have no fear," Legolas insisted.

"We shall see, on the morrow," Elladan said, echoing his father's words. "And until then, let us say no more about this burr. We would like for whoever is responsible to think that they have gotten away with their ruse." Everyone in the small group nodded their agreement.

"Come, Tathar. I think you have had enough excitement for one evening," Tûrin said, stepping forward to take the side where Elladan stood, the older twin giving way, loosing his grip on Legolas's elbow only when Tûrin's strong hand was ready and able to take his place. Legolas thought briefly about shaking off the hand and walking proudly forward, head held high, but found he could not – a bone deep exhaustion settled on him suddenly, the ever present hum of ache from his injured wrist making him feel weaker still. He found himself grateful for the steadying hand for he had every belief that rather than walk proudly forward, he would more than likely stumble and fall on his face.

Rissien, always the less apt to fuss over Legolas than Tûrin or Ellarian, took Elrohir's place at Legolas's other side and, as if sensing his charge's fatigue, wrapped a strong arm around his waist and began to half lead, half carry the young Elf toward the barracks. "Come Tathar," the guard said, his voice smooth, betraying no emotion whatsoever. "Let us go and partake of one of those common baths you are so enamoured of." But then Legolas felt a brush of air against the side of his face as a voice that cracked with emotion whispered in his ear "If you ever scare me like that again, _tithen pen_, you will not sit for a week. I do not want to know this world without you in it."

Legolas had opened his mouth to issue a witty retort, making fun of the guard's obvious and unusual concern when the last sentence sank in and he found that he could not, in fact, say anything, so moved was he by the heartfelt response on the part of someone who rarely if ever gave voice to how he felt. Instead, Legolas meekly nodded his head and added, "I will do my best, _mellon nîn_."

No more was said and before long, Legolas found himself bathed, fed and tucked into bed like an Elfling and for once, he didn't mind the treatment at all.

Dictionary:

_Penneth _– young one

_Adar _- father

_Adan _- man

_tithen pen_ – little one

_mellon nîn_ – my friend

_Ernil nîn – _my prince

I wanted to thank Tryal, Jenn and Anon for your reviews! I wanted to make sure you know how very much your words are appreciated!!


	8. Chapter 8

Standard disclaimer – not mine, no money, just for fun

Thanks to everyone for reading and extra special thanks for all of the reviews – this writing thing is fun but it really means a lot to know someone is reading and liking even! Thanks, as always, to my wonderful beta, Sarah – to those of you who noted my Legolas mess up (since fixed and thank you for pointing it out!) – she had nothing to do with it, it was all mine – I should never try to do something without her!

Galvreth – Thranduil's closest advisor and friend

Ivran – Legolas's oldest brother, the Crown Prince of Mirkwood

Ellarian – Legolas's middle brother

Tûrin – Captain of the Mirkwood Home Guard and friend of Legolas

Rissien – Lieutenant of the Mirkwood Home Guard and friend of Legolas

Tathar – Mirkwood's greatest archer, set to compete in an archery competition in Imladris that takes place every 100 years

Chapter 8

The next day was trying, not because of any physical pain but because Legolas was forced to watch while the others honed their skills. It drove him to distraction; especially since he felt he needed all of the preparation he could get. Estel and the twins found him near to dinner and they spent the meal discussing who might be responsible for placing the burr on Harma, glancing around at the various groups of Elves where they sat eating. The most likely was, of course, Haldir and his brothers but then that made them the least likely in Estel's estimation.

"Haldir would know that we would look to him, if we should become suspicious," he insisted.

"But if we can't prove anything, what difference does it make whether we are suspicious or not?" Legolas pointed out. "I would be out of the contest and he would win. We would be welcome to our suspicions but it would not change the outcome of the competition."

"No, you are right there," Estel admitted.

"Speaking of which," Elladan said, leaning across the table and extending his hand. "How is your wrist?" Legolas brought his arm, minus the bracer, up for his inspection. The twin narrowed his eyes and frowned. "You were not to remove that until I gave you leave," he chastised.

"Relax, brother," Elrohir intoned. "He came to see me this afternoon and I gave him leave. His wrist is fine. The swelling has already gone down. He can compete."

"The evil plan has been thwarted!" Estel quipped, grinning.

Elladan still took a moment to wriggle the wrist, his eyes locked on Legolas's the whole time to gauge his reaction. Legolas kept his face perfectly blank even though there was still a slight discomfort. It would not be enough to affect his shooting. Satisfied, Elladan released his hand and smiled. "You have my blessing too, _penneth_. You are cleared for competition."

"Thank you, Lord Elladan," Legolas said formally and then broke into a bright smile.

Estel, sitting next to Elladan, leaned back in his chair, calmly regarding his friend. "Is there any chance, now that you are deemed healthy once more, that you will be allowed to go riding with me, this evening?"

"No," Tûrin answered, soundly. "No chance at all."

"Really, Tûrin, you take your guard of Tathar quite seriously. In fact, more seriously than I think you take your guard of your Prince. When was the last time you paid him a visit?" The_ adan_'s calm regard shifted to the Mirkwood captain who, Legolas could tell, was suddenly struggling to maintain his own calm as he all but squirmed under Estel's keen observation.

"He trusts your kin to care for his prince, my lord," said Rissien, typically unfazed.

A knowing smile graced Estel's lips and Legolas felt a moment of panic. Until, that is, Estel explained himself. "Methinks you dislike your prince is the more likely explanation, my friends. Methinks you relish this opportunity not to have to have anything to do with him and can let others take on that responsibility. Come now. You are among friends. Tell the truth."

Rissien glanced back and forth between the twins and Estel, his eyes lighting at last on Tûrin. They both smiled. Wickedly. "You have found us out, Estel. He is a brat." Legolas felt his cheeks grow hot.

"Yes, he is spoiled and pampered and full of himself," Tûrin agreed, grinning widely. Legolas shot him a look that spoke of everything he would do to him, once they were away from the others.

"I thought as much," Elladan mused. Much of the care for Tathar had fallen to him with Lord Elrond so busy with the contest and all of the important Elves in attendance. "He is bad tempered and unappreciative," the twin added.

"His manners seem to be lacking, too," Elrohir followed, though he did wince as he said the words as if uncomfortable with uttering them. Legolas did not hold them any bad feeling since it was Tathar's behaviour that was sorely lacking, not, he hoped, his own. He was glad that he would not have to hold to any promise to Tathar that he would not reveal who he truly was – he would not want these three to think that the real Legolas was such an ungrateful dolt.

"How is it that we have not heard anything about this young son of Thranduil?" Estel asked.

"Oh, Thranduil keeps him well hidden," Rissien said, airily. "Not only does he exhibit bad manners but neither is he up to the standards of beauty his family is known for." Rissien yelped suddenly and turned at once to his side, sending Legolas a scathing look. "Why is it _Tathar_, that you are suddenly unable to keep your feet to yourself?"

"No reason, other than the fact that you should not talk about your _Prince_ in such a manner, now should you?"

"Tathar and the Prince are quite close, you see," Tûrin explained while the sons of Elrond looked on in amusement.

"Our apologies, Tathar," Elladan said, ruefully. "We should not have spoken in such a manner."

"However, I must admit, regardless of your sentiment, Tathar, that he is not at all like Ellarian or Ivran," Elrohir allowed. "We have wiled away many a good hour in their pleasant company."

"He looks nothing like them, either, or his father for that matter," Elladan added. "Nor does he look like your Queen."

A sudden silence fell to those at the table. Legolas's attention was at once riveted on the older twin but not before noting the abrupt rising of one Rissien's brows and a not quite covered gasp from Elrohir. "You – you knew her?" he asked.

"Yes, we did." Elladan's suddenly sorrow-filled gaze rested upon Legolas's own and the young Elf felt his heart begin to pound under the weight of it. "She was the most beautiful _elleth_ I have ever known," the dark-haired twin murmured. "She –" he stopped speaking then and blinked twice before rising suddenly to his feet. "Please forgive me. I forgot that _Adar_ asked that I check on your Prince."

"I'll join you," Elrohir said. He stood too and turned to follow his rapidly departing brother, stopping only to say, "Perhaps we can meet up with you later." But Legolas did not miss the pointed look he shot Rissien. He turned his head to see Rissien's reaction only to find the guard's own face shuttered as if nothing had transpired between himself and the Imladrin Prince.

"What was that all about?" Legolas asked when they were gone.

Estel gave an unconvincing shrug of his shoulders and began to pick at what of his dinner remained on his plate. "My brothers know of what befell your Queen," he said. "It is likely upsetting to them to think of – of what happened. I do not know the details myself, but I imagine it is close enough to what their own mother went through that thoughts of her might bring them painful memories." It was a plausible answer and Legolas could think of nothing more to ask, though he felt that plausible and accurate were not quite the same thing in this case.

There was a sudden stir in the crowd as Lord Elrond stood and raised his hand. All grew silent. "Attention, everyone!" he announced, his deep baritone rising among the slow ebb of voices in the large hall. "I have just been given the final scores for yesterday's competition. It appears that Tathar of Mirkwood has managed to retain his lead in spite of his steed's efforts to the contrary. Haldir of Lórien is now a quite close second. Rumil of Lórien is third. Siril and Valdaglerion of Imladris round out the top five. These Elves will be the only ones to move on to the final competition to take place tomorrow beginning at dawn. Congratulations to all for an amazing day of archery and no less than magnificent horsemanship." The Lord of Imladris raised his goblet and saluted around the room. But right before he took a drink, he stared directly at Legolas, raised his cup higher and grinned, "even when the horse had other ideas," he chuckled. All raised their own cups and toasted the close of the day's event.

The Mirkwood Elves retired to the barracks. "You have all but won, 'Las," Tûrin crowed. "After your performance the other day with their ball throwing machine, I think there is little doubt as to who will be going home a winner."

"And thank the Valar, too, _Tathar," _Rissien said, shooting a pointed look at Tûrin who bit his lip, once he realized what he had let slip. "Perhaps we won't have to spend a year in the dungeon, after all." Legolas rolled his eyes but kept quiet. He was feeling confident too that he would be able to best Haldir. The Elf had been more successful than most at shooting the flying balls from the air but had not come close to Legolas's proficiency.

"His only hope," Tûrin continued, his mind following the same lines as Legolas's thinking. "Was to have far surpassed your score yesterday shooting from horseback so that he might still be ahead when the final points are tallied. He failed to do that so I see no way for him to win. It makes him the most likely candidate for the burr, if you want my opinion even if it will only ever be an opinion as there is no proof."

They began to ready themselves for sleep, Legolas lost in thought about the coming day's challenge when suddenly, the door burst open and a stream of other contestants entered, chattering worriedly, grabbing for bags and weapons and quickly streaming back towards the door.

"What is happening?" Tûrin asked Haldir who was busily gathering his bow and quiver.

"Orcs have attacked a nearby human settlement. Lord Elrond is sending his warriors to hunt them down. We have all volunteered to go with them."

"You, Haldir?" Rissien scoffed. "They are, after all, Humans."

Haldir glared at Rissien, as he passed him on his way to the door. "They are living creatures, Rissien. I am not an animal. And what about you? Does Mirkwood fight or do you cower here with your Prince?"

"Mirkwood fights everyday of its existence, Haldir," the Mirkwood guard retorted, hotly. "I hardly need defend our courage, or ability. That we stand at all attests to that, since we stand alone." But Haldir was already through the door, not sparing a backward glance for the three left standing in front of their bunks. Tûrin and Rissien faced each other.

"You go," Rissien said. "I'll watch the Elfling."

"No. He is my responsibility, not yours."

"Are you sure?"

Tûrin looked crestfallen but nodded his head. "Yes, I'm sure. You go."

"Wait a minute," Legolas, who had been watching their exchange, broke in. "Why can't we all go?"

"Don't be ridiculous, _penneth_. You are not going hunting for Orcs!" Rissien snorted as he pulled back on the boots he had just removed. "The king won't let you leave the palace if there is even a whisper of Orc activity in the area and now you think we will let you rush into a battle with them?"

"But – "

"No!" Rissien thundered, pausing only long enough to shoot his charge a scathing look.

Legolas bit his lip and turned his head away, corralling his anger and frustration. Rissien moved to his bunk and began to gather his things. "Very well, then," Legolas said. "But you should both go. The King would not want it to be known that Mirkwood did not support this need completely because one of you had to mind his – his – " he caught himself just in time, remembering the others still present in the room. "Mind me," he finished, biting his bottom lip hard to keep anything else from slipping out unintended. He was angry and disgusted, both.

"We cannot just leave you -" Tûrin started.

"Of course you can!" Legolas snapped. "You have my word that I will behave myself."

Tûrin's hands opened and closed, as if he were itching to grab his weapons and follow Rissien who was already moving toward the door. The guard stopped where he stood and turned back toward Tûrin. They locked eyes and Rissien gave a slight nod of his head. Tûrin turned at once and grabbed his sword, bow and quiver. "We are trusting you, _tithen pen_," he said, soberly, reaching for his pack.

"I am allowing you to leave me behind, Tûrin," Legolas grumbled. "And I am doing so without complaint but I would ask that you at least treat me with some respect. I am _not_ a _tithen pen_."

"Ai, _mellon nîn_! I am sorry. Please forgive me," Tûrin answered, standing and placing a hand on Legolas's shoulder.

"Just go," Legolas sulked, shrugging his shoulder from Tûrin's grasp. The Elf paused, empty hand still held out toward his friend. Legolas kept his gaze averted, his back stiff and unyielding. At last, with a heavy sigh, Tûrin turned and did as commanded, joining Rissien at the door in a few short steps. It was more than enough time though, for Legolas to come to his senses and realize that he was acting just like the Elfling he so often claimed he was not. His dearest friends were heading out into danger. "Wait!" he called, rushing to the door in Tûrin's wake.

Flinging his arms about them both, he grabbed them up in a tight embrace. They stood, huddled together for a moment, before Legolas forced himself away, schooling his expression. "I know you would do better with me there to protect you but you'll just have to watch each other's backs in my absence." He gave them each a shove toward the door. "Be safe," he said, successful at keeping any quaver from his voice.

Almost as one, the two soldiers straightened, then bowed low to their Prince, ignoring the strange looks passed their way by the few Elves still gathering their weapons. Once standing again though, their faces broke into broad smiles and they gave jaunty salutes to their friend. "We'll be back before you have a chance to miss us," Rissien promised. And they were gone.

Legolas stared at the empty doorway for a moment, pushing down the fear that he felt every time his friends left him behind. With a heavy sigh, he turned back to his bunk. The large room was empty, the last few Elves having followed Tûrin and Rissien into the darkness. It would have been difficult to find rest in that suffocating silence, even if he hadn't been plagued by worry. He sighed again, knowing that it would be a very long night indeed and with heavy steps, returned to his bed. He had just settled himself, forlornly, on its edge and had begun to untie a boot when the sound of the door opening, brought him back to his feet. Estel's dark head was silhouetted in the opening.

"Ah, somehow I knew I would find you here," he said, leaning against the doorjamb, folding his arms across his chest. "I couldn't imagine that your keepers would allow you to go along."

"No, not likely," Legolas muttered in reply. He cocked his head at the man. "But what about you? Your brothers and _Adar_ allow you to go out and about on your own. Why were you left behind?"

Estel shrugged. "Because I don't have to go, I suppose. There are enough others that were willing that my help was not needed. And though I am allowed to roam the woods and hunt and defend myself if things go awry, my _Adar_ would not knowingly send me into danger, if he can avoid it. He knows that all too soon I will leave him and go out on my own and I think he wants to protect me as long as he possibly can."

"You will leave here? Where will you go?"

Estel's intelligent grey eyes regarded him silently for a moment and once again, Legolas had the impression of one who was so much more than what he let on to be. "One day soon, I will tell you, _mellon nîn_," Estel said, firmly, as if he had come to a conclusion of some sort. He straightened. "But not tonight, I think. Tonight, you and I will find something to do. We have all of it before anyone will return, I would imagine, if not beyond."

"What _can_ we do?" Legolas asked, crossing the room to join Estel at the door. "I did promise to behave myself," he confessed.

"You didn't promise to go to bed, did you?"

Legolas shook his head, no.

"Did you promise not to leave this room?"

A slow smile crept across Legolas's face as he shook his head again. It had been many months since he had been allowed to do anything even remotely fun. His _Adar_, so engrossed in readying everything for his long absence, had kept Legolas and Galvreth working non-stop for weeks. He all but shivered with excitement.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Estel beckoned toward the open door and Legolas nearly tripped in his hurry to join his friend as they left the barracks and headed up the path toward the house. "Imladris is open to us. We need only find something entertaining to do within its bounds and you will be able to have fun while still behaving, as you have promised. Do you like to fish?" Legolas eagerly nodded his head. "Night fishing is the best. And frogging. Do you like frogs?"

"To - to play with?" Legolas asked, in confusion.

"To eat, of course," Estel chortled.

To eat!?" Legolas choked, his eyes widening.

"Of course, to eat."

"I – uh – no, I don't."

"You mean, you don't know. Everyone should try frogs at least once." Legolas could only shudder.

He insisted on a visit to Tathar before heading out on their fishing trip. He tried to leave Estel behind but found the human quite attached, as if he were afraid Legolas might lose his nerve and change his mind. There wasn't much chance of that happening, but Legolas submitted anyway and allowed the_ adan_ to trail along. He only hoped that Tathar would not try anything. That was a hope better saved for another time, as it ended up. Tathar was not in a good mood.

"I am tired of being laid up here," he groused. "But I am not yet allowed out of bed, even for a moment."

"I am sorry," Legolas answered, truthfully. Tathar was not one of his favourite Elves but he understood the sentiment, having spent the occasional time or two or three in the healing wing himself. He was looked after quite closely but still managed to get himself into his own share of trouble. Perhaps that was one reason why his _adar_ treated him so – if he could get into as much trouble as he did being watched, imagine what he would do if he wasn't…

"Yes, _Tathar_," Tathar spat, "I am sure you ache for me." Legolas shot the archer a wary look, glancing quickly to Estel and then back again. Tathar did not miss the look and grinned, evilly. He settled back into the pillows and motioned the two young ones into chairs pulled up beside his bed. "Come. Sit. Talk to me."

Legolas shook his head. "We have been given an assignment by Lord Elrond," he lied smoothly, thinking again how easily untruths seemed to roll from his tongue these days. "Everyone has left to fight _Yrch_ that have attacked a nearby village. He has asked us to help him, as there are no others available. We cannot stay." Legolas did not look to Estel again, knowing that he would likely not be able to keep a straight face, if he did.

"But I am your Prince," Tathar sulked, folding his arms across his chest. "Surely you owe allegiance to me first?"

Legolas narrowed his eyes. "Of course, my lord," he answered, icily. "But as a prince, surely you know that a guest does not turn his back on his host when they are in need." Tathar glared at Legolas but kept his mouth shut. With a formal bow, Legolas turned toward the door, followed by Estel.

"Ah, well, then," the archer called after him. "I'll have to satisfy myself with the gossip here, to entertain me, since you will not. You would not believe the things they say about me." Legolas stopped with a hand on the doorknob, glancing sideways at Estel who looked, suddenly, quite pale. "Yes," Tathar chuckled, from behind. "They say I am a bastard. Did you know that Tathar?" He waited for Legolas to turn around before he continued, gleefully, a smile planted on his face. "A bastard. Yes! They say that explains why I look nothing like my King. Because he is not my father. Did you know that many believe that very thing? They thought that even before they saw me. Interesting, is it not?"

Legolas could only stand in shock – bastard? He could not even imagine why anyone would think such a thing. Of course he was Thranduil's son. And of course he looked every inch the son of his father. But everyone here thought Tathar to be the prince, so if there were rumours, they would only have been fuelled by the fact that the archer indeed looked nothing like the King. But why should there have been rumours?

"My lord," Estel said at his side, his voice quavering, with anger, or dismay, or both, Legolas could not be certain. "If you have heard rumours, they can only have come from servants, more likely our few human servants at that, and you have my deepest apologies."

"Hmph. You need not apologize for the behaviour of servants, _adan_. Besides, I have found their chattering most entertaining. Are you concerned, I wonder, because of your own, albeit distant, involvement?"

Estel stiffened where he stood at Legolas's side and his hands clenched into fists. But when he spoke, his words were calm and displayed no touch of emotion. "My lord, I am wise enough to ignore the gossip of servants. But again, I must apologize and will talk with them. Such lies should not be passed around, even if they are seen to be _entertaining_."

Legolas stood frozen, unable to reply to Tathar's taunting. Estel had more than adequately responded however and the _adan_ grasped Legolas by the arm and spun him back around toward the door. Before Legolas could even register what was happening, he found himself out in the main courtyard, fishing pole in hand, beneath the glow of a thousand winking stars. "Come Tathar," Estel said. "We are wasting a beautiful night and your precious moments of freedom." He led the way out of the courtyard and down a path that led directly into the woods behind the Last Homely House.

They trudged in silence for a distance, Legolas fighting to hold his tongue until he could not control himself any longer and blurted out, "What was that all about?"

Estel sighed but kept walking, head down, eyes on the path they travelled. "It is nothing but spiteful gossip, Tathar. Do not let it trouble you."

"Tell me what you know," Legolas ordered, recognizing, even as the words left his mouth, that he was sounding most unlike an archer in the service of the King of Mirkwood speaking to the son of the Lord of Imladris. He took a deep breath and corralled his emotions. "I would still like to hear what they say," he said, forcing what he hoped was a calm and curious tone.

Estel did not slow his steps as he answered, "It all happened before my time so I do not know the facts, of which I believe there are few. It was just a rumour, passed around by the human servants we have here - they would be the only ones to believe such nonsense and repeat it, other than a few gossipy Elves who could not possibly believe any of what they heard but were still happy to make trouble." He grinned sheepishly at Legolas but sobered when the Elf did not return his smile.

"Tell me what you know," Legolas repeated, ignoring Estel's attempts at diversion. What patience he had was fast wearing thin and he was finding it more than difficult to pretend that his questioning was driven by curiosity alone.

"It does not bear repeating – "

"Estel! Tell me!" Legolas grabbed Estel's arm and halted his movement down the path, twirling him around so that they faced one another.

"Oh, very well," the man muttered. He found himself unable to meet the Elf's eyes and stared instead at the tops of his boots. "There has always been a tendency on the part of some Noldorin Elves to look down their noses at Sindarin and Silvan Elves, your King and Queen being perfect targets for their prejudice. It isn't true of course, what they say, any of it, but again, those that have little in the way of class are easily entertained…"

"You are stalling," Legolas interrupted. He folded his arms across his chest, refraining, with difficulty, from tapping his toe on the ground. "Speak now. I am not going another step until you do."

Estel straightened. "All right. All right! I'll tell you! You certainly know how to ruin a perfectly good fishing excursion," he grumbled. He grimaced and took a deep breath, accepting the inevitable. "Apparently, my brother became enamoured of your Queen the last time she paid a visit and was often seen in her company." He glanced up at Legolas and grimaced again. "There was an _incident_."

"What sort of _incident_?" Legolas asked, fear suddenly curling in the pit of his stomach.

"They were lost in a storm together. They were gone overnight. They say – they say that my brother and your Queen, that they – it is ridiculous of course – Elves do not do such things. _Could_ not do such things. Only humans are capable of such behaviour. . But my brother is a _Peredhel_ - you can imagine that some might find him to be entirely capable and willing of what was suggested. A Silvan _elleth_, a Peredhel_ ellon_. You can fill in the rest." Legolas felt his stomach twist and forced his feet forward, hoping the need to keep from stumbling in the dark would quell the sick feeling that threatened to engulf him. Estel hurried to catch up. "It does not help that your Prince does not look like the King. That would have laid the rumours to rest once and for all. Instead, he is quite dark. Like my brother."

They walked in silence for a moment while Legolas worked to control the anger he felt so that he could ask his question without screaming it. "Which brother," he finally managed to say. Estel must have sensed his turbulent emotions anyway, for he hesitated in his response. "Which brother, Estel?" Legolas demanded.

"It is not true, Tathar! None of it, of course. Your Queen, I have been told, was the most beautiful _elleth_ in all of Middle Earth, more beautiful than the Evenstar. More beautiful even than the Lady Galadriel. Of course, it is Elladan telling me this, so I cannot be sure – he would not find his own grandmother or sister to be particularly attractive, at least not in that way. But he did find your Queen thus and found her to be as kind and as adventurous as she was beautiful. He fancied himself in love with her. But of course, it was just a passing thing. He soon came to his senses. But not, unfortunately, before your King knew of his devotion or, for that matter, half of Imladris, thanks to the wagging tongues. He and Elrohir have both been seen to be troublemakers in their pasts and it doesn't take much to believe that either of them might do something foolish.

"Elladan and my – my – Queen?" Estel nodded. Legolas was lost in thought for the remainder of their hike through the woods. He, of course, did not believe the rumours but the notion that the dark haired twin had been so enamoured of Legolas's _naneth_ was strange, he found. As he walked and thought over how he felt, it wasn't anger or disgust or any of the emotions one might expect that coiled through his stomach, however. In fact, what he felt was a strange sort of warmth akin more to comfort than anger. He liked Elladan very much and that Elladan cared deeply for one whom Legolas loved more than life itself was not necessarily a thing to fault the twin for. It depended of course on how he had displayed his infatuation.

The woods opened up suddenly and a lake spread out before them like a large, dark blanket. Estel set about finding a spot for them to fish from, clambering up first one rock, then another. Legolas watched him without joining in, still lost in his thoughts. At last, Estel found what he had been searching for. "Here," he beckoned.

Legolas absentmindedly followed in the footsteps of the _adan_ as he climbed up on a sharp boulder that jutted out over the lake. At last he found his voice again, as Estel passed him a worm to string on his hook. "He - he did not do anything untoward, did he? He did not anger my - my King or shame him?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Estel answered, his dark head bowed over his own line. "In fact, he realised that he was acting foolishly long before the tongues started to wag and because of it, he made certain that he did nothing that would make the situation any worse. The problem came when the Queen went riding alone one day - I told you it was so much safer here than in Mirkwood – she could not resist - and was caught in a ferocious storm. There were those simple fools that felt that Elladan had something to do with the change in weather in order to arrange for what transpired – he happened to be out riding too and met up with the queen. They spent the night together in a cave. The King and Queen left shortly after and, of course, those already talking said it was because of the "incident" though they had planned to leave at that time, all along. And then, your Prince was born one year after their visit, which set the tongues to wagging, yet again."

It was at that moment that Legolas realized that he had been conceived in Imladris, that the beauty and serenity of this place had given his parents enough hope that they had decided to bring another life into the world. The knowledge was again strangely comforting. There was much about this place that gave him a sense of peace, something that was lacking in his own home. Though it might be magic that enabled this pocket of tranquillity to exist in an otherwise dark and dreary world, it did exist and with it came a hope for something better.

They continued to ready their poles, in silence. It wasn't until their lines had been dropped and the two youth were settled on the boulder, feet dangling over the side that Legolas spoke again. "What do you think? Do you believe the gossip?"

"Of course not! Though I did not know your Queen, I am certain she is incapable of such behaviour. And I do know my brother and he would never do such a thing. Don't get me wrong – I believe he was infatuated – he is quite impulsive, for an Elf. He is, after all, part human or at least, that is his own excuse for his behaviour though Elrohir is part human too and he is much better at controlling his emotions. But Elladan would not disgrace himself, our father, or your King and Queen in such a manner. He is honourable and kind and would never cause anyone such heartache."

"I believe you Estel. Do not fear. I must admit, it has been a shock. I never expected to hear such a thing. Is that what the Lórien Elf was alluding to earlier?"

"Yes."

"And Rissien and Tûrin knew of this gossip?"

"Evidently. Rissien was quite angry, did you not notice?"

"I did. I think they were anxious to protect me, as well." Legolas could feel the _adan_'s eyes boring into the side of his head, though he kept his own attention on his pole.

"I thought so, but could not divine the cause for their deep concern. And you seem to have taken this all quite to heart. Why?"

Legolas began to search his mind desperately for a reason why he should need protecting and why this information might have angered him so, choosing and rejecting many possible tales before he settled on one that was the truth, if not the whole truth. "I am related to the King and Queen."

"I thought so," Estel crowed, nearly dropping his pole as he slapped his thigh. "I have never met King Thranduil but had heard that his hair was golden like yours – I have never seen such a colour on the head of a Mirkwood Elf until now. And then when you were treated with such care by your keepers I began to wonder if you were, perhaps, a relative."

"Yes," Legolas said, uncomfortably, hoping he would not be forced to elaborate and tell more lies to someone he thought of as a friend. In fact, he did not think he would be able to do so and began to consider the possibility that he might have to tell Estel the truth. He had no doubt the man would keep his secret but there could be other ramifications to the disclosure, not the least of which would be that he would now require Estel to be dishonest with his own father and brothers in order to keep Legolas's secret.

"Are you a cousin to the king, perhaps? Nephew? You are much too young to be a brother."

Legolas heaved a mental sigh and opened his mouth to answer, not sure, even as he did, what would fall from his lips – truth or lie - when the Valar smiled upon him; Estel's pole twitched once, twice and just as the _adan_'s hands grasped it firmly, it began to bend in the middle with such force, Legolas feared it might snap in two. "Estel! You have caught a monster!"

"Aye!" And all talk of Elladan and Legolas's mother or Legolas's lineage was forgotten. The rest of the night passed with the two of them fishing and talking and enjoying, as best they could, a beautiful star filled night, trying not to think of the danger their family and friends were in. It was nearly dawn when they returned to the house.

"I need to bathe," Legolas said, sniffing his fingers and wrinkling his nose. "The smell of fish turns my stomach."

"I'll join you after I drop these off with cook and gather some clean clothes," Estel said, raising the long stringer of fish they had caught.

Legolas headed for the barracks and his own fresh attire. He was almost to the door when movement by the stables caught his eye – several horses were milling around about the main stable entrance. Thoughts of a bath were forgotten, replaced with a new fear as Legolas dashed across the paddock. Sure enough, once again the stable door stood open and it was obvious that horses had escaped, some still standing about the corral and others clogging the main aisle of the stable. Legolas hurried inside, closing the door behind him as he went, making mental notes as to the number of empty stalls, keeping his senses primed for another dark figure in the rafters. His journey down the aisle was uninterrupted until he came to stand before the foal's stall where his steps froze. The door stood wide open; the stall was empty. Legolas felt his heart begin to hammer in his chest – the colt was so tiny - if he had managed to wander off…

Harma's whinny drew his attention and he stood to find his horse still penned. He retrieved the animal and led it quickly toward the door. Once outside, he dropped to his knee, trying find any signs of a tiny hoof print in the dirt. It was difficult. There were so many prints going every which way, he had almost begun to despair when he at last found the edge of a tiny shoe peeking out beneath a larger one. His heart lurched. Mother and foal were heading off toward the trees behind the House, near where they had just been fishing. He began to follow the tracks, slowly, Harma close behind. Estel's voice in the distance stopped him and he realized that he had come quite a ways from the stable. He turned to see the _adan_ waving at him. He mounted Harma in one fluid leap and hurried back to Estel.

"Someone let the horses out, again," he said, though unnecessarily as Estel had already corralled several and was urging them back into the stable.

"I see that. Help me get these back in and then we can round up the ones that have gone further a field."

"The foal! He's gone this way," Legolas cried, pointing back toward the forest, where he had been searching.

Estel gasped and then began to worry his bottom lip with his teeth. "I need to tell my _Adar_. There will be someone who can go for him…"

"Estel, it might be too late. He is so little. He could be in danger right now! You go tell your _Adar_ but I am going for him. I cannot wait."

"_Ai_ Tathar, please wait! The stable hand in charge will be in the barracks. Let me at least tell him. I will catch up to you in just a moment. Promise me, you will not go into the woods until I have joined you!" Legolas threw a panicked look back to where he had been tracking the foal, the looming dark of the forest only a short distance away. "Promise, Tathar or I will make you come with me," Estel demanded.

_How_? Legolas wanted to ask, wondering if the _adan_ thought he had the strength to force him to comply. But an argument would just end up taking even more precious time. "Very well, I promise," he agreed, grudgingly. "But you must hurry. I won't wait long."

Estel was gone in an instant and Legolas led Harma back to where he had last seen the hoof prints of the foal. It was good that Estel was accomplished in the Elven way of riding without tack. Legolas was not sure he could have waited the time it would have required for the _adan_ to saddle and bridle his horse. Instead, it was truly only minutes before Estel was back at Legolas's side. Fortunately, Estel's tracking skills were much better than Legolas's. The _adan_ had spent much time hunting with and learning from his brothers whereas Legolas had rarely been allowed out of the palace grounds. He quickly caught the trail and off the two went into the woods.

Dictionary:

_Penneth _– young one

_Peredhel - _Half-elven

_Adar _- father

_Adan _– man

_Elleth_ – female Elf

_Ellon_ – male Elf

_tithen pen_ – little one

_mellon nîn_ – my friend

_Ernil nîn – _my prince

Anon – thank you so much for your amazing review! I can't respond with a PM (or don't know how to) and wanted to make sure you knew how much I appreciate your kind words!! CocoaB.


	9. Chapter 9

Standard disclaimer – not mine, no money, just for fun

Thanks to everyone for reading and a special thank you for all of the wonderful reviews! Thanks also to my beta, Sarah. Her friendship has been one of the greatest thing to come out of this writing business.

Galvreth – Thranduil's closest advisor and friend

Ivran – Legolas's oldest brother, the Crown Prince of Mirkwood

Ellarian – Legolas's middle brother

Tûrin – Captain of the Mirkwood Home Guard and friend of Legolas

Rissien – Lieutenant of the Mirkwood Home Guard and friend of Legolas

Tathar – Mirkwood's greatest archer, set to compete in an archery competition in Imladris that takes place every 100 years

Chapter 9

The dark of the forest and the hard terrain hindered their attempts to keep to the trail, that and the fact that the foal and its mother seemed to follow no logical trail at all, instead meandering aimlessly among the trees. Hours passed without sight of the two and with much time wasted while they located the next discernable trace of prints. At last, the sound of a river nearby gave promise that they might find mare and foal drinking and eating at its banks. They urged their mounts forward, excited, and filled at long last with a glimmer of hope.

The rushing water of the river was almost frightening in its intensity. Legolas was filled with dread as he envisioned the tiny foal trying to drink along its edge, losing its footing and ending up in the fast moving stream. The water had an effect even more deleterious, though, than causing waking nightmares for the Elf – his worry combined with the crash of the water over rocks, drowned out the sounds that man and Elf should have been attentive to, and had they been older and wiser, would have been.

They split up in order to locate tracks, heading in opposite directions along the shoreline. It took a shout from Estel for Legolas to become aware that the darkness of the forest wasn't solely because of lack of light. He dashed back to where he had left the _adan_, only to find his friend locked in battle with close to twenty Orcs. He leapt up onto a boulder and pulled his bow from his shoulder, nocking an arrow in less time than it took to blink an eye. The first Orc had no idea what hit him, nor did the second or third, so fast did his arrows fly. By the fourth, the creatures understood and were, in fact, in pursuit. They located the Elf and half of the remaining Orcs began to move towards him.

He kept up his rapid fire, thanking the Valar as he did that Orcs were not very bright and these even less so than normal – they did not duck behind any protection but stormed him as a force, enabling him to take down three more before they reached him. But that still left him with five to fight and when the first sword swished past his legs, he knew he had to abandon his boulder for solid ground and his bow for his knives.

He had never faced an assailant before – at least not an assailant intent upon removing his head from his body. He parried and ducked and parried again, relying on his greater speed to make up for what he lacked in strength or experience. He recognized quickly that what these creatures lacked in skill and finesse, though, they more than made up for in numbers. He was able to take out one, his blade coming up beneath the orc's pathetic excuse for a parry. He immediately pulled out his knife and spun around to remove the head from another that was attacking from his side. He could sense yet another to his back and he dropped low, feeling the whoosh of a sword as it attempted to replicate what he had just done to the hapless creature beside him. It was then he made his first mistake. And all that was required was one.

The sound of a horse's scream distracted him and in his distraction he forgot that the Orc that had been to his back had two swords. As he rose again and spun to face it, a pain worse than anything he had ever felt tore through him, radiating from his shoulder out to every other part of his body. He could hardly breathe. And though he would like to think that he was brave and strong and would never cry out in agony, cry he did as he collapsed to his knees.

The remaining Orcs surrounding him answered with shouts of triumph. For Legolas, the sound engendered anger and disgust at his perceived weakness and ultimately, gave him the strength to struggle once again to his feet, taking advantage of the fact that the celebrating Orcs had, for the moment, forgotten that they had wounded and not killed him. He had dropped one of his knives but he clasped the other tightly in his only working hand. He could feel blood soaking the front of his tunic but he refused to give it any thought, just as he would not allow himself to consider what it meant that he had not heard anything more from the horse, or worse yet, from Estel since beginning his battle with the Orcs.

The knife came up and around and an orc's head was flying through the air. Legolas twirled and danced away from yet another sword swipe, his breaths now short and shallow, as each one he took sent pain shooting through his body, every movement sending waves of nausea coursing through his stomach. He was down to just two Orcs, but, it was two, too many he feared – black spots had begun to dance before his eyes and the shallow breaths he was taking were leaving him light-headed.

The Orcs must have sensed his weakening state. One circled behind him while the other thrust at him, point blank. He had to duck and parry or he would be skewered, leaving him no time to wonder what the one to his back was up to. He had to choose between them, which he thought would come at him first – which would be the most accurate with their thrusts. He had so little experience with fighting but enough to know that he was in dire trouble.

He forced himself to take a deep breath though the pain that shot through him nearly drove him to his knees. He stabbed blindly at the Orc to his back, trying to push him away while making his move on the one to his front. But the feint was not taken and he could still feel the Orc close behind; could sense the sword being raised to strike a killing blow. But the one in front was raising his sword too, red crusted and gore flecked, he could not take his eyes from it. He could not battle them both, or if he could, he did not know how. He focused on the one before him, on that gore-flecked scimitar, and prayed to the Valar to take care of the one behind.

His knife sliced cleanly into the orc's chest and the creature slumped backwards. Almost at the same time, he dropped to the ground and rolled to his side, the pain as he landed stunning him into semi-consciousness. His eyes clenched tight, against his will – he could not defend himself with his eyes closed! But try as he might, they would not open, would not obey him – and he awaited the feel of cold metal against his chest. But instead, there was nothing. A gurgle followed by a grunt was the only sounds that reached his ears. After what felt like minutes but surely must have been only seconds, he was at last able to force open his eyes, only to discover a more than slightly dishevelled Estel kneeling beside him, gazing at him in abject terror.

"Are you all right?" his friend cried, reaching out to gently cup Legolas's cheek. "_Ai_! You are wounded!" Terror turned to dismay as Estel's gaze shifted to the blood covering the front of Legolas's tunic.

"S'all right," Legolas slurred, finding it, once again, difficult to keep his eyes open. He fought the exhaustion that pulled at him, as well as an overwhelming desire to vomit; something he had not done since, as an Elfing, he had stolen a bottle of his _adar_'s best Dorwinion and drained it in one long gulp. "Help me – up," he managed to stammer. "Horses!" He waved his one good arm in the air, expecting Estel to grab it and help him to sit. Instead, the man pulled what appeared to be bandaging from his pocket, thrust it against the wound and pressed Legolas's flailing hand down over the top of it.

"Keep that there," he commanded. "I'll be right back"

After forcing himself to take several calming breaths, Legolas struggled to a sitting position. The world, along with his stomach, began spinning about. Again, he spent several panting moments fighting the urge to empty his stomach. The return of Estel, however, had the immediate effect of replacing his nausea with fear, a tangible stabbing pain that overrode all else and forced him to think of nothing but the pale blankness of his friend's face.

"What – happened?" Legolas gulped, picturing the worst.

"The mare is dead," Estel said, his grey eyes moist. "The foal is fine."

Legolas's head drooped and he slumped forward, exhaustion once again claiming his body. He felt Estel's arms around him, pulling him gently against a firm chest where Legolas found the smell of fish mixed with the scent of sweat and something indefinably Estel, strangely comforting.

"I'm sorry," Estel whispered against the top of his head, his hand stroking reassuringly up and down Legolas's back. "I wish we would have been faster."

Legolas pressed harder against the strong shoulder, biting his lower lip to keep it from trembling. "We saved the foal. That is good," he managed, his voice cracking, despite his efforts.

"I am sorry but I must look at your wound, _mellon nîn_," Estel's chest rumbled against his cheek. "I need to stop the bleeding." He eased Legolas back away from him. With one hand holding the Elf up, he gingerly removed the bandage that had stuck to the blood coating Legolas's tunic and gently probed the still bleeding shoulder wound. "_Ai_! It is a deep wound, Tathar. And I think the sword has severed muscle and bone, both. I can only hope it is not poisoned."

Legolas roused himself then, enough to straighten and to get his brain to begin to function. If he had any hope of finishing what he had started, Rissien and Tûrin could not know that he was injured. He wrapped his good hand around the arm that was holding him up. "We must return to Imladris before the others do, Estel. You - you have to sew this up."

Estel shook his head. "My father will sew this up, Tathar. Not I. This is beyond my skill, trust me. It is ugly. Did you not hear me say it has severed –"

"I heard and it matters not," Legolas snapped, his fear that all he had worked for would come to an end making him ill-tempered, not to mention the pain that sent tremors through his body at regular intervals. "Your father will not allow me to compete with this wound."

"No, and neither will I."

"But I must! It isn't a choice," Legolas cried.

"Tathar, you are being ridiculous! It is impossible. Even were you to somehow manage to overcome the pain, which I find highly unlikely, you would pull out any stitches that will be required to rejoin the muscles in your shoulder together again. If you didn't bleed to death first, you could end up causing permanent damage to your arm, not to mention your aim."

"I must. It isn't a choice," Legolas repeated. "If I don't, I - I may never have another chance."

"It is a competition, Tathar. A game. You can compete again next time," Estel soothed.

"You don't understand. If I disappoint my – my king, he will never allow me to compete again. And, in fact, he will likely never allow me out of Mirkwood again. Please, Estel," he pleaded. "You can fix this. I know you can! You have been taught by Lord Elrond, you said so yourself."

Estel shook his head. "This is no small matter Tathar. As I said, the wound will require surgery. It is beyond my skill." A rustle in the leaves behind Estel sent him to his feet, spinning about, clutching his sword tightly. A tall, lithe figure stepped from the shadow of the surrounding trees.

"But not beyond mine, perhaps."

"Elrohir!" Estel rushed forward, wrapping his brother in a quick, fierce hug. "Thank the Valar! How did you find us?"

"It was easy," the dark haired Elf smiled as he pulled away, giving his brother one last squeeze about the middle before striding forward and dropping beside Legolas who had somehow managed not to fall on his face in the dirt when Estel had removed his support. "All I had to do was search for the only Orcs within fifty leagues of here and it would figure that you two would have found them. By the Valar, indeed! How do you have such fortune?"

"Fortune?" Legolas snorted, the sound turning into a squeak, as Elrohir probed the wound in his shoulder, not quite as gently as Estel had done before him. "_Ai_, Elrohir! I believe I have been punished enough, do you not?"

"I'm sure you have not, Elfling. What are you two doing out here so far from home? _Adar_ will tan your hide, Estel, and Rissien and Tûrin, yours Tathar. I believe they told me you had promised to behave yourself. This is what you call behaving?"

"Someone let the horses out again," Estel explained. "We went after the mare and Templa's foal. Orcs killed the mare. The foal is over there." He nodded back toward the river.

"Who would do such a thing?" Elrohir said, though his attention was still riveted on Legolas's shoulder, not sparing a moment for the foal. It was a good indication to Estel that the wound was every bit as serious as he had surmised and perhaps even more so.

He knelt back beside the other two again, placing his sword to his side, within reach. "Perhaps it is your smell that attracted the Orcs, Tathar," he quipped, trying to distract his friend from the pain his brother's examination must surely be causing – the Elf's face had gone stark white and beads of sweat lined his brow and upper lip. "You never did get that bath, you know."

"_My_ smell!" Legolas glowered, Estel's ploy apparently working as the Elf perked up enough to respond with some fervour. "Why, if anything smells around here, human, it would be – _ai_!" The archer recoiled violently from Elrohir's still probing fingers. The twin grasped him by his uninjured shoulder, effectively halting his retreat.

"Stay still, _mellon nîn_. I need to assess your injury and determine if I can be of assistance or not. If not, then you are on your way to see my _adar_, no ifs, ands, or buts about it, and your competing days will have to be left for another time." Legolas stilled at once, biting his bottom lip against the pain.

Estel's concern dissolved into disbelief. "You can't be serious, Elrohir! He cannot compete with that injury, even if you do sew him back together again!" Elrohir ignored his brother, loosening the clasps of Legolas's tunic and gently slipping it off. The shirt beneath proved to be more difficult as it would require Legolas to lift his arms over his head to remove it and he wasn't capable of doing that. The dark-haired Elf pulled a knife from his belt and began to slice through the fabric, carefully separating it from top to bottom. The blood covering Legolas's chest acted like glue and it took another concentrated effort for him to work the shirt free, stopping as an occasional hiss of pain escaped Legolas's tightly clenched teeth.

"I'm perfectly serious, Estel," he said as he worked. "This is important. Our young friend here is well on his way to becoming one of the greatest, if not _the_ greatest archer in all of Middle Earth. We can hardly allow an injury to impede his progress, can we?" Legolas stiffened beneath the twin's healing hand and raised his head to find Elrohir's soft gaze regarding him, keenly. "Can we?" the twin repeated.

"I must win."

Elrohir nodded. He located the bandage that Estel had dropped in Legolas's lap and placed it back against the wound, pressing to control the blood that still flowed freely. His dark eyes regarded Legolas, soberly. "It is your decision, _mellon nîn_," he said. "I can sew this up, I believe. And I believe too that there is every chance you will tear the stitches and perhaps the muscle beneath, if you compete, causing yourself an injury that might end up being permanent, regardless of your Elven healing abilities. But I hear you and understand what you say. I know your king and what he demands of his sons. I too am the son of a lord. I understand that there are certain - expectations. I will do as you say."

It took Legolas a moment to register what the twin had said and Estel even a moment longer. "Son?" The _adan_'s puzzled voice wafted about the two Elves, still locked in a steady stare. "Elrohir, have you lost your mind. This is Tath…" Estel's eyes flew to Legolas's face. "Son? _You_ are Legolas?"

A guilty smile quirked Legolas's lips, despite the pain in his shoulder and the severity of his situation. He at last pulled his eyes away from Elrohir to meet the wide-eyed gaze of his friend. "I am sorry Estel. I never started out to deceive you. You jumped to the wrong conclusion in the woods and I just – well - I just allowed it to continue. And then, I realized that I could have what I wanted – a chance to compete. _Adar_ would never have allowed me to do so. If I were to lose, all of Mirkwood would lose face. It is bad enough that our archer champion might lose, but the son of the king? The results would be devastating. And he hasn't much faith in my abilities, either." He turned back to face Elrohir, his mouth set in a straight, no nonsense line.

"I say yes, Elrohir. I must finish what I have started. If I quit now, I lose. _Adar_ will never allow me to compete again, I promise you. In fact, he will not allow me out of Mirkwood again, if he has his way, which he always does. You are not the only ones I deceived."

"Ellarian _was_ the brother who was supposed to come, not you," the twin stated.

Legolas nodded. "Ellarian was called away when there was trouble in the South. Ivran should have left the trip to Rissien, Tûrin and Tathar. My _Adar_ had already told me, in no uncertain terms, that I could not go even with Ellarian along. But Ivran was not there when _Adar_ made his decision and I was able to convince him that _Adar_ would rather I go than the royal family not be represented. I had hoped to be back before my _Adar_ returned - his was to be a long trip - and then I could tell Ivran the truth. And, if I had won, I did not see how the king could allow the greatest archer in all of Middle Earth to be kept inside the palace to serve as a scribe, my job up to this point in time."

"Scribe?" Estel exclaimed. "You cannot be serious!"

"Aye. Well, advisor in training to my brother, which to me is the same thing as being a scribe. But if I win this contest, I am sure I will get the chance to be something more." He returned his attention to Elrohir and wrinkled his brow. "How did you know who I was?"

Elrohir grinned while still clutching Legolas's uninjured shoulder, holding the Elf in place, sensing just how fine Legolas's hold on consciousness was. "Let's see, how did I know? It might have been your hair. I know of only one Mirkwood Elf with hair like spun gold – King Thranduil himself. But that would have only caused me to look more closely at you – there has been the occasional marriage between Mirkwood and Lórien Elves so a blond Mirkwood Elf is not an impossibility. Your downfall, my Prince, is that I have met your beautiful _naneth_ and you could not be more like her. You have your father's hair and eyes but everything else belongs to her."

Legolas's cheeks pinked and he looked undeniably pleased. "And did Elladan recognize me too?" he asked.

"Yes. We talked after we first met you in the healing chamber. He had figured you out even then. When the gossip began anew, we thought of saying something to you – we did not want word spreading to _Adar_'s ears and upsetting him. All you had to do would be to say who you were and that particular rash of rumour mongers would be neatly silenced." Elrohir's eyes flew open then and he paled. "_Ai_! What have I said!? I am a tongue-wagger myself. I should learn to keep my mouth shut –"

"Relax, Elrohir. I have told him everything."

"Estel!"

"I forced him, Elrohir. He had no choice," Legolas insisted. Estel shot him a grateful look, over his brother's shoulder.

Elrohir sighed. "I am truly sorry that you were told these ridiculous tales."

Legolas would have shrugged but caught himself, knowing the resulting pain would probably put him away, once and for all. "So, why did you keep silent if telling who I was would have ended the gossip and perhaps made Elladan's life easier?"

"Because we care nothing for what anyone wants to think or believe about us. It makes no difference to us. And we knew you must have a reason for playing Tathar. We decided to wait and see what happened. We would never have said anything without talking to you first. You are our friend, Legolas." Elrohir gently squeezed the shoulder he held and smiled. "Now. Enough banter." The smile vanished, replaced by a look of intense concentration. "We need to see to this wound. Estel, call my horse please – fortunately, I have with me what I need. Then, if you would spread a blanket here," Elrohir motioned to his side with his head, both hands busy holding up the now slumping Prince. "Then you can help me lay him out. Legolas?" The dark-haired Elf grasped Legolas's chin gently with one hand and lifted the trembling head. "I haven't much for the pain, _mellon nîn_. Are you sure this is what you want me to do?" Legolas blinked blearily at him but nodded his head before closing his eyes and sagging against Elrohir's chest, at last losing his battle with consciousness. "Thank the Valar," Elrohir whispered. "Now let us hope he stays this way 'til I am finished."

Estel called for Elrohir's horse, grumbling under his breath as he pulled the pack and blankets from its back.

"What is it, Estel?" the younger twin asked on his return, the sharp ears of the Elf hearing the not so silent muttering.

"Are you sure you know what you are doing?" Estel demanded, as they eased Legolas onto the blanket he had spread out on the ground. Elrohir was silent for a moment as he handed Estel a cloth and motioned for him to use it to stem the flow of blood from the wound. "Well?"

Elrohir sighed heavily before answering. "Do I know what I am doing? Yes, I believe I do when it comes to whether or not I can repair the damage – it is a serious wound but not beyond my skill. No, I don't think I have a clue as to what I'm doing when I give over to him the power to decide his fate. And yet, maybe I do, after all, when I realize the importance of that decision. I believe him when he says what winning this contest will mean to him. He wants to win badly and though he is very young and should have more opportunities in his future, regardless of his fears, I have a strange feeling that it is important that his _adar_ begin to trust his skills sooner, rather than later."

"Strange feeling? What is that all about?"

Elrohir only shrugged. "Get some water from the river and start a fire," he said. "We need to clean this wound as best we can. And make sure the foal has not wandered too far. Elladan and I tracked these Orcs back from the village and I saw no signs of any others along the way but I would not take any chances." He took the pack Estel had brought and dumped it upside down on the part of the blanket not covered by wounded Elf. "Keep your eye out for our brother, Estel, I could use his help. I wish he were the one in my place, in fact. He is by far the better healer between us."

Estel nodded and did as he was told. Before long, the wound was nearly cleaned and ready for Elrohir's doctoring. "Brother, I have but one more comment to make before you begin," Estel said, softly, watching the dark-haired twin while he worked.

"Yes?"

"If he is as young as everyone keeps insisting, surely he is too young to make such an important decision for himself? Should you not step in and overrule him, keep him from harming himself?" His foster brother sat back from his preparations and regarded Estel, solemnly.

"I would not have you think that I care not for this _penneth_, Estel, or that I would not protect him. I will tell you something but I must have your word that you will not repeat what I say to you now. Not to Legolas. Not to anyone. It is a confidence that I place upon you."

Estel nodded his head, just as solemnly. "You have my word, brother."

Elrohir sighed and dropped his gaze to rest on the unconscious Elf spread out before him. "The last time Elladan and I visited Lórien we spent much time with _Daernaneth_. She had words for me about our future. She foresaw that someone would come to Imladris and would ask for our help. We should give it, she said, even though we might question whether it would be the right thing to do. She said that it would be – that the person in need had a purpose that would be important to all of Middle Earth and our help would enable him to serve that purpose. And here he is. And here I am."

"How do you know it is Legolas that she spoke of?"

Elrohir laughed. "I suppose I could have asked for words to be painted on his forehead declaring that he is Galadriel's vision. But no, instead I will just rely on my own good sense. It is Legolas, Estel and he needs me to do this for him. Now, let us hurry. We need to finish before someone finds us."

"Too late, my brother, I have found you. And l believe I qualify as "someone"." Estel leapt to his feet in time to face his other brother's smirking face. They embraced and Elladan could not resist ruffling Estel's dark hair. "And whenever Elrohir refers to his good senses, _tôr nín_," he chuckled, "I know that I have arrived just in the nick of time. What have we here?" He stepped forward quickly, his face losing its mirth at the sight of the wounded archer. He dropped to his knees at Legolas's side. Throwing off his quiver and abandoning his bow and sword, he leant over the wounded Prince. "This looks quite serious."

Elrohir grimaced. "Aye. It is. And needs to be tended. Now that you are here, I would be happy to leave you to it. You are by far the better healer among us. I will trade scalpel for sword and be a guard so that no one else manages to sneak up on us while we work."

"I was hardly _sneaking_, brother, I simply walked. That is how distracted you two were. And I can see why. You are certain this is what we are meant to do? We could take him home and let Ada have the pleasure of sewing him back together again."

"I am quite certain Elladan. And so are you. You hesitate for some reason other than doubt."

Elladan leaned over Legolas again and bit his lip. "He - he looks so much like her…"

"He is like her in many ways, I think" Elrohir said. "And he deserves the best care we can provide. That would be you, brother. You are the better healer between us. You must do this."

Elladan closed his eyes and swallowed hard before nodding his head. "Yes, you are right, of course."

"Always." Elrohir smirked.

Elladan smiled weakly before giving his brother a gentle shove. "Yes, always. Go, climb a tree, would you, and keep watch. Estel? You will help me."

It was hours later that they rode into the courtyard of the Last Homely House. Legolas, still unconscious, was nestled in Estel's strong arms, thankfully oblivious to the non-stop jostling of the horse. Elladan relieved his little brother of his burden so he could dismount, only to have the Prince taken, unequivocally again from his arms, once Estel was on solid ground.

"Take him to your room," instructed Elrohir. "I will let Rissien and Tûrin know, when they return, that you are together. I will say that you were talking and both fell asleep.

"And that is exactly what you are going to do, too Estel," Elladan ordered. "Fall asleep. We will get our little Prince tucked in on one side of the bed and then I'll tuck you in on the other."

"I need a bath, Elladan. I smell like fish," Estel said as he turned toward the house, clutching the Prince's body tightly against his chest.

Elladan raised a dark brow. "Oh? And since when does that disturb you? Are you maturing, little brother, or is it the idea of having royalty in such close quarters that triggers this sudden desire for cleanliness?"

"Neither," Estel said, chuckling as he looked down at the Prince clasped in his arms. "Legolas complained earlier that the smell of fish upset his stomach. I don't want the smell of _me_ pushing him over the edge so that he throws up in my bed."

"Ah. I am comforted, Estel," Elladan laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder while they walked. "For a moment I feared I had lost you to the ranks of the cleansed and civilized but now I know that you are not completely grown up, yet. By all means, take a bath. I have no intention of leaving our charge any time soon. I need you to sleep and he needs to be watched over for the night. Shall I take him?"

"No, I have him." Estel clutched Legolas tighter and Elladan stifled a smile. He had never seen his brother become so protective of anyone, and certainly not in so short of a time.

They carried the senseless Prince quickly up the stairs and to Estel's room. It wasn't long before both young Elf and young Man were sound asleep in Estel's bed, one's rest induced by pain and loss of blood, the other's exhaustion driven. Elladan spent the time alone, pacing Estel's room, from balcony to door to bath chamber to bed and back around again. At each circuit, he paused at length to gaze at the golden haired Elf asleep next to his little brother. The face was inordinately pale, the Elf's ragged breathing and occasional grimaces of pain evidence that the young one's sleep was not so deep that he did not suffer.

Elladan knew that with proper rest, the young Elf would eventually regain his health and strength but it would take time, and lots of it. He shouldn't compete. But Elladan had been there when their grandmother had insisted that they should offer their assistance when it was requested. Though he was no less in agreement with Elrohir that they should follow Galadriel's instructions, or that it was Legolas that she referred to, he also could not ignore the fact that the Elf before him would not many years before still have been considered an Elfling, nor could he forget the feelings that he once held for this one's mother. He felt somehow that he was letting her down, allowing one that must have been a precious gift to her, bequeathed at such a dark and dangerous time, to be placed in such danger. That part of him that still cared for her, no matter the illogic of it all, screamed at him that this was wrong. Legolas should not be allowed to compete under any circumstances, regardless of his need to prove his skill to his father, himself, or the world – during their return to Imladris, Elrohir had explained the situation that the young Elf found himself in with regard to his _adar_'s expectations and beliefs. If Tindome were here today, she would never have allowed such a thing.

Elladan sighed deeply and moved away from the foot of the bed, beginning his travels around the room once more, absently trailing his fingers across the top of a desk, the back of a chair, as he passed, entirely immersed in his thoughts. He did not care what his father or Rissien or Tûrin felt about what he did, or even Thranduil, for that matter. He cared about what an _elleth_, dead for nearly half a century would say right now if she were here. His steps brought him once more to the bed and the two figures stretched upon it. Elladan was taken with how, instinctively, each had curled toward the other – Estel had turned on his side facing Legolas, his arm flung out, his hand resting atop Legolas's chest.

The wounded archer had not moved as much in his unconscious state but one hand was extended toward the centre of the bed, his fingers touching Estel's outstretched arm and the young one's head had turned toward the sleeping man. Was this what Galadriel alluded to? Is this the vision that led her to ask that they offer aid to the young Elf when the time came? Elladan knew what Estel – Aragorn - would have to do. Estel knew it now too. Was Legolas destined to play some part in Aragorn's future? They were already friends, could they be fast friends? Best friends? Sworn brothers? It could be, he thought as Estel stirred in his sleep and the young man unconsciously pressed his palm against the chest beneath his fingers, feeling for the steady heartbeat of his friend.

For a moment, the lines of pain in Legolas's face eased and a peaceful sigh escaped his lips. Like Legolas's pain, Elladan felt his worry lighten too, if only for a moment. He knew what he needed to do. He would accept his grandmother's wisdom. But he would also impart a bit of his own to someone who hadn't the years of experience to make a truly informed decision. In doing this, he would feel that he had done what Tindome would have asked of him. He would put his trust and faith in what had never failed him, in his grandmother's foresight but also in his own sense of right and wrong. Instead of moving around the room again, he sat in a chair drawn up beside the bed and settled in to keep watch, for the first time that evening, at ease with his heart.

Dictionary:

_Penneth _– young one

_tôr nín – _my brother

_Adar _- father

_Adan _– man

_mellon nîn_ – my friend

_Ernil nîn – _my prince

_Elleth – _female Elf

_Naneth - _mother

Nina - I Thank you so much for your review - it really, really means a lot to know you are out there and reading!


	10. Chapter 10

Standard disclaimer – not mine, no money, just for fun

Thanks to everyone for reading and a special thank you for all of the wonderful reviews!!! I'm thrilled to know you are enjoying the story – all I can say is - wow! Thanks also to my beta Sarah – you are the greatest!

Galvreth – Thranduil's closest advisor and friend

Ivran – Legolas's oldest brother, the Crown Prince of Mirkwood

Ellarian – Legolas's middle brother

Tûrin – Captain of the Mirkwood Home Guard and friend of Legolas

Rissien – Lieutenant of the Mirkwood Home Guard and friend of Legolas

Tathar – Mirkwood's greatest archer, set to compete in an archery competition in Imladris that takes place every 100 years

Chapter 10

The rest of the troops did not return until near dawn. Elrohir had explained to an anxious Rissien and Tûrin where their young charge had escaped. They wanted to check to make sure he was fine but with words of assurance from the son of their host, they could hardly insist. They were ushered off to their own beds and Elrohir returned to Estel's room to relieve his brother, bearing also a fresh set of clothing for the Prince. He found Elladan fast asleep in a chair, his head resting on the bed beside Legolas, and Estel tucked neatly at the young Prince's side, hand on top of Legolas's chest, snoring loudly. A pair of sapphire blue eyes blinked up at him from between the two sleeping beings.

"You are awake!" Elrohir whispered, from the end of the bed. "How do you feel?"

"I am well," the young Prince answered, groggily.

"You lie."

Legolas winced. "Not very well, it seems. I never was any good at it."

"Hmm," Elrohir chuckled, softly. "I think you are, unfortunately, quite good at it. You have convinced everyone that you are someone you are not."'

"Everyone, except you and Elladan."

"You hadn't a chance there, my friend. As I said, you look enough like your _naneth_ that anyone who knew her well would have been able to tell, if they were not otherwise distracted, that is and if they had other reasons to be suspicious."

"Other reasons?"

"You comport yourself as something more than a mere archer, my Prince, try as you might to play that part."

"Oh," Legolas answered, a faint blush turning his cheeks pink.

"And you are truly very young to be as good as you are. I have heard of Tathar's skill but I had never heard that he was a prodigy. Please, do not take this in a bad way but I can't imagine the Elves of Mirkwood keeping a secret such as that. They would have touted not only Tathar's skill with a bow but also the fact that he had only just reached his majority."

The soft blush that had tinged Legolas's cheeks turned a brighter shade of red. Elladan chose that moment to awake. He lifted his head to observe the Prince and gave a cry of dismay. "_Ai_! You are fevered!" But his hand touched a cool brow and dismay was replaced with confusion. Legolas blushed yet again causing Elladan to glance back to his brother who was rolling his eyes.

"Let him be, Elladan," Elrohir scolded. "You carry on like a mother hen. He is a Prince of Mirkwood, not a puppy."

Elladan snorted and turned back to inspect Legolas more closely - eyes, pulse, and finally wound, stopping first to carefully remove Estel's hand from the Prince's chest. The gentle movement was still enough to disturb the sleeping man. He blinked and slowly came awake. Recognition of where he was and memories of the events of the night before came back in a rush and he sat up quickly.

"Easy, Estel," Elrohir scolded. "You'll frighten the Prince."

"Not likely," Legolas chided, with a smile. "I'm a Prince of Mirkwood, Elrohir, not a puppy."

Elladan laughed out loud while Estel looked affronted on Legolas's behalf. "Certainly not," he exclaimed. "You should have seen him facing down Orcs with a vengeance, Elrohir. Puppy indeed! You looked like you do that every day before breakfast, _mellon nîn_." Estel rolled off of the bed and stood, stretching.

"That was actually the first time I have engaged an Orc in battle," Legolas said. "To tell the truth, it was the most terrifying thing I have ever done in my entire life. Well, except the times I have thoroughly angered ada and had to engage _him_ in battle..."

"What!" Estel stopped stretching and dropped back to sit on the bed again, leaning across to better see and judge the Prince's face. "You cannot be telling the truth."

"How would you know, Estel," Legolas grinned. "You are obviously incapable of deciphering whether I am telling the truth, or not."

"True," he admitted. He turned to Elrohir standing at the foot of the bed and then looked to Elladan, still examining Legolas's wound, and asked, "Brothers? You would know if he speaks the truth. You caught him out before, you can do it again."

"Contrary to what you must think," Legolas said before either twin could answer, "lying is not something I do often, or well. I swear it."

"So you keep insisting," Elrohir laughed. "And why should we believe you now? Because you have sworn it?"

"You have a point there," Legolas joined in. His laughter, however, turned to a cry of pain as Elladan probed a bit too deeply during his examination.

"_Ai_, Legolas," the twin said, "I am sorry. Your wound is healing nicely, though, if that helps. And I am finished with my prodding and poking, which, I'm sure will help quite a lot."

Legolas, white-faced and trembling, gave him a weak smile. "It will, indeed."

"I think some food is in order," Elladan continued, sitting back and observing the young Elf solemnly. "And then you and I must talk."

"Talk?" Legolas glanced warily at Elladan before looking to Estel and Elrohir. Both arched eyebrows and shrugged.

"Yes," Elladan answered, fishing around in a drawer beside the bed and pulling out a roll of fresh bandaging. "You and I must talk. Alone." He turned to look pointedly at first Estel and then Elrohir who, with another shrug, headed for the door.

"I will send up something for you to eat, then" the younger twin said, over his shoulder. "Come Estel, after you've helped me with food for our Prince, then we can break fast together - you are looking a bit famished yourself."

"I have a better idea," Legolas said, wincing as Elladan began to wind the clean bandage around his shoulder. He placed a hand on the healer's arm to stop him. "Could I please have a bath first? I smell of fish." He wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Told you, you smell," Estel laughed, as he joined Elrohir at the door. "We shall send up a bath, with your food."

"He is right," Legolas admitted, after they had gone. "I smell so awful that I can no longer stand to be around myself. I can't imagine what it must be like for you."

"You can't possibly smell as bad as Estel on a good day, _Ernil nîn_," Elladan said which caused Legolas to laugh out loud, despite the pain. The older Elf began carefully unwinding the bandage he had just been applying and in no time, the twin was helping a grumbling Legolas to the bathing chamber.

"I can bathe myself, Elladan. I am not an Elfling."

"So you keep insisting," Elladan said gripping Legolas's elbow tightly when the Elf swayed, making a mockery of his declaration. "Would you like me to first carry you to the tub where you can then prove you are not an Elfling by bathing yourself? You shan't do it by walking as you haven't made it ten paces and already you are swooning."

Legolas rolled his eyes but did not protest the hand that grasped him tightly by the arm or the other that slipped around his waist before he took another step. He could not deny that the floor had begun to waver beneath him and the distance to the bath chamber seemed to have become extremely long in the few short moments he had been on his feet. He could not contain the sigh that slipped past his lips as he wondered how he was to compete in an archery contest when the simple act of walking seemed beyond his ability.

Elladan stopped, at once and said, worriedly, "Legolas? Do we need to return to bed?"

"No, no, Elladan. I am fine." The older twin raised one brow to display his disbelief. "Oh, very well," Legolas admitted. "I'm not fine. But I can continue. I just don't know how I will manage to compete like this, yet I know I must."

Elladan's arm tightened around his waist and Legolas found himself all but carried the rest of the way. In moments he was settled into a warm soothing bath, the likes of which he was certain he had never known, or if he had, he had never properly appreciated. Elladan disappeared, returning with a grunt and a grimace as he forced his way back through the door moments later balancing a tray laden with food in his hands, closing the door with a backward kick of his foot.

"I need a quiet moment with you _penneth_, with no interruptions," Elladan explained, as he settled the tray of food on the edge of the tub, taking a seat beside it, at the same time. He filled a cup with tea and handed it to Legolas who took it. "Drink that. Now," he ordered. Legolas did as he was told, without question and continued on to eat the bread and cheese the dark-haired twin thrust at him, one piece at a time as if he were hand feeding a baby bird.

When Elladan was satisfied that his patient had eaten enough, he left his seat at the Prince's side and moved to kneel behind him. "Here, let me wash your hair. You can hardly do it with that shoulder."

Legolas opened his mouth to protest once again, this time that this was no fit duty for an Elf lord, but Elladan had already begun to massage soap into his hair and, as much as he wanted to deny it, the feeling was exquisite and the perfume of the soap a welcome change from the smell of blood, sweat and fish that he had lived with throughout the night. Instead of a protest, a satisfied sigh escaped his lips and he leaned gratefully back against the tub.

"Thank you."

"My pleasure, _Ernil nîn_.

"Just Legolas. Please. No _ernil_." Elladan smiled and continued to card his fingers through the fine golden tresses.

"How about _mellon nîn_?"

"Yes. I would like that," Legolas answered, sighing again and leaning back into the twin's gentle touch.

"Good," Elladan said. "Then, I need to talk with you, _mellon nîn_, about what you are planning to do."

"Mm…" Legolas could not gather enough energy to give a more earnest response.

"You must know that I will support you in whatever you decide," Elladan continued, not certain that he had the Prince's attention but well aware that time was of the essence – Rissien and Tûrin would be up and about before long and quiet talks with the Prince would not be possible once they were. "But know this too, Legolas - you must have faith in your abilities. And in your _adar_. In mine too. I will talk with Ada, Legolas and have him talk with Thranduil."

"It will not matter…"

"You do not know that. With all of us working to convince him, I think your _adar_ might listen. He is not ignorant, just afraid. For you. Listen to me - I know for a fact that if you try to compete, you could harm yourself, permanently."

"I will stop before that happens."

"Will you? You are so desperate, _mellon nîn_! So much so that I fear you will not heed any warning your body might give you. Listen to me!" Elladan tugged on one of the locks of hair he held in his hand, hard enough that Legolas was forced to lean his head back and look at the dark haired Elf behind him. "You ask not to be treated as a _penneth_. That is all well and good. In order not to be treated as a _penneth_, then you must not act like one."

Legolas stiffened but stopped shy of pulling away. Elladan was only trying to help. Not anger. And, like it or not, what he was saying deserved to be listened to. But Legolas had something to say, too. "I heard what Elrohir said about Galadriel, that she told you to help me," he said. "I wasn't fully conscious but I heard and I understood. I believe her. I need to do this, for me and for reasons that I don't even begin to understand. There is more at stake than my pride, or my chance to be a warrior, or my opportunity to escape my fate to serve as my brother's advisor. I do not understand it, but I know that it is true. Do you not think that if the Lady Galadriel herself says that you should help me to compete, then I must compete?"

"That is not what she said, Legolas. She said we were to help you. That is all.

"And yet, what else could she mean?"

"I cannot say. But what would be the value to anyone if you were to harm yourself? What would you prove then? That you are young and inexperienced and perhaps even a bit selfish? I ask that you think, long and hard, before you make this decision. And again, that you have faith in yourself. And in your friends and those you love."

He released the lock of hair he had grasped in his hand but the young Elf remained stiff and uncomfortable against the back of the tub, not at all the result that Elladan was seeking. He again began to card his fingers through the soft tresses until he felt Legolas relax once more. He had nothing left to say and he remained as unsure about what Legolas should do as before. He only hoped that Legolas was less sure, too. "The choice is yours to make," he said quietly, voicing the only thing he was certain of. "All we have done is to ensure that you have one. You alone must decide whether to compete, or not to compete. You must search your heart and make the decision that an intelligent and courageous warrior would make. Do you understand me?"

Legolas gave a nod of his head. Elladan hefted a pitcher of warm clean water and pushed the young Elf's head forward, rinsing the soap from his hair. He poured yet another pitcher in the tub before standing and heading to the door. "Soak for awhile," he said as he went. "It will do you good. I'll be back later to help you to bed. The contest will not begin again until tomorrow and I think Rissien and Tûrin should sleep quite a large part of the day. By then, you should be well enough to fool them. I know you have said that you are not a good liar, _tithen pen_ but I think you have become quite a good one, not that I think that is necessarily a good thing, by the way."

He left Legolas then with his thoughts and spent the next half hour pacing back and forth on Estel's balcony wondering if he had done enough, said enough. When at last he returned to the bath chamber, it was to find Legolas, fast asleep, his nose just brushing the surface of the water. He extracted the exhausted Elf from the bath, dried him and dressed him without much help from the bedraggled Prince and then tucked him once more into a bed remade with fresh sheets, thanks to Elrohir.

If Rissien and Tûrin were suspicious, Legolas had need to put them at their ease, though not without help from one of Elladan's pain killing elixirs, secured, surprisingly, without complaint. Legolas was more concerned that the dark circles beneath his eyes or extreme pallor of his skin might give him away, but Elrohir had thought of that and arranged it so that Legolas made his appearance before his keepers, outside of the dining hall where the only light came from an open door at each end of a long corridor.

Elrohir's timing was perfect. He made certain that the two Mirkwood Elves were waylaid by a clumsy servant, just long enough that they passed Legolas in the centre of the hall, the furthest distance from both light sources. Estel was at Legolas's side and assured the keepers that he and Legolas had just eaten and thus had no need of joining them for dinner. Tûrin must still have been worn out from their night of Orc fighting for he, surprisingly, gave no argument. "You will take yourself to the barracks, then," he admonished. "And keep yourself occupied until you are ready for sleep. You are not to leave under any circumstance. We will be back as soon as we have partaken of some food." To which Legolas nodded, serenely. Bed was exactly where he wanted to be right now, he thought as the pain in his shoulder flared strongly enough to be felt, even through the numbing effects of Elladan's potion.

Rissien was uncharacteristically silent, intent on something else entirely, for once, to Legolas's unending relief. He was staring past Tûrin toward one end of the hall. If anyone would have caught him out, it would have been the ever-observant guard. It wasn't until Tûrin had finished his speech and begun to walk toward the dining chamber that Legolas realized what had so captured his friend's attention - a group of Lórien Elves, Haldir included, were clustered at the far end of the hall, talking, their eyes flicking back toward Estel and the Mirkwood Elves at disturbingly frequent intervals.

"What are they saying?" Estel asked, noting too, the guard's focus.

"They are talking about you, Tathar." Rissien said, turning at last to give Legolas the thorough visual going over that had been so lacking earlier. "You look pale, _penneth_. Are you all right?"

"Yes - yes, of course," Legolas stuttered.

Estel stepped deftly between Rissien and Legolas, blocking the guard's view of his charge, drawing everyone's attention back to the group at the end of the hall as he asked, "And what do they find so interesting about Tathar?" The move worked. Rissien returned to observing the Lórien Elves.

"They are saying that someone let the horses out again last night. They think it was Tathar."

"What?!" both Legolas and Estel cried out together.

"Yes. They found several strands of blond hair caught on a nail at the back of the foal's stall. They think that whoever let the horses out had to enter the stall to chase out the mare and her little one. The foal was found sometime in the night. The mare has not been, though they do not continue to search for her and I do not know why." Legolas and Estel glanced uneasily at each other, a move that was not lost on Rissien. While they gave their attention back to the Mirkwood guard, he continued to stare at them with obvious suspicion.

Estel cleared his throat. "Yes, well, there are plenty of blond Elves here what with Lórien so well represented. Why are they, of all Elves, pointing fingers at Tathar?"

"It was apparently a very blond hair," Rissien said. "Not the silver blond of Lórien Elves, either. Golden is how it was described to me. Like Tathar's hair. Like Lord Glorfindel's." Rissien cocked a brow. "So, if you were trying to determine who might have let the horses out last night, who would you suspect? Lord Glorfindel, who was busily hacking away at rogue Orcs in a human settlement ten leagues away, or Tathar who was supposedly asleep in the barracks, not a stone's throw from the stable?" The eyebrow raised another notch. "But he wasn't in the barracks, was he, Estel?" The two glanced again to each other. "Was he?"

A smile settled on Estel's lips and he looked calmly back at the guard. "Of course he wasn't, Rissien. You know he was with me."

Rissien snorted again, suspicion bleeding into certainty, certainty that something was afoot between the two young ones. "I am hungry, Tathar," he snapped. "I am going to eat now. And after I eat, you and I will talk. I want to hear about how you spent your time with Estel last night and how those hairs could have ended up in that stall.

"I did not enter that stall, Rissien. I swear it."

Rissien narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps. I used to be able to trust you, _penneth_, but lately… We will talk. Later. For now, go back to the barracks and wait for us. Go directly back. Speak to no one. Understood?" Legolas nodded. "We will finish eating and then find out what is happening. Until then, keep to yourself."

"Aye, aye, Captain."

"And what have I told you, brat, about getting smart with me?"

"You have told me not to do it, sir."

"So don't." With that, the guard turned on his heel and brushed past Tûrin who followed after shooting one last glaring look in Legolas's direction, confused as to what was happening but no less certain than Rissien that something was amiss.

"Phew. That was close," Estel said, wiping a hand across his brow.

"Close?" Legolas scoffed. "That is what you say, Estel, when you have been successful at dodging suspicion. Which we were not. All we have gained is a few more precious moments to try to come up with a story they will believe."

"You are correct, _mellon nîn_."

"Of course I am," Legolas responded.

"You _are_ a terrible liar." Estel took Legolas by the arm and steered him toward the direction from which they had just come. "Come, let us find out about these hairs."

Legolas resisted. "I am supposed to go straight to the barracks and – "

"- and they are already suspicious of you," Estel pointed out. "So why follow the rules now? Don't you want to know about these hairs?"

"Well, yes. Of course."

"Then come. I am sure my _Adar_ knows what is happening.

Dictionary:

_Penneth _– young one

_Adar _- father

_Naneth _- mother

_mellon nîn_ – my friend

_tithen pen_ – little one

_Ernil nîn – _my prince

Anon – It is a very good thing that Legolas is so much better than Haldir so that he can still have a chance at the contest – it was my way of trying to give our poor Marchwarden a hope otherwise, he might as well just go home now. And I could not have made your day any more than you made mine though with your lovely review – thank you!!!

Alanic - I happen to be an awful Elf torturer, I can't seem to stop myself but he usually comes out ok in the end. I tried for twisty so if I got anything close, I'm thrilled! Thank you so very, very much for letting me know you are enjoying!!!


	11. Chapter 11

Standard disclaimer – not mine, no money, just for fun

Thanks to my wonderful beta Sarah and to those who are reading this story. I can't thank you enough too, for letting me know you are out there, either through reviews or alerts or choosing this as a favorite story.

Galvreth – Thranduil's closest advisor and friend

Ivran – Legolas's oldest brother, the Crown Prince of Mirkwood

Ellarian – Legolas's middle brother

Tûrin – Captain of the Mirkwood Home Guard and friend of Legolas

Rissien – Lieutenant of the Mirkwood Home Guard and friend of Legolas

Tathar – Mirkwood's greatest archer, set to compete in an archery competition in Imladris that takes place every 100 years

Chapter 11

Legolas allowed himself to be led back to the family quarters and to the door of Lord Elrond's personal study. He had not been in the room before and as he stood outside its entrance he began to seriously question why he would want to become acquainted with it now. If Elrohir and Elladan had been able to see through his ruse so easily, surely Lord Elrond would be able to do the same.

"Estel?" Elrond's voice called out, as Estel entered the study. "You have been making yourself scarce lately, now that you have Tathar to entertain you. What brings you here? Are you in trouble again?"

"No, no, Ada. I've come with Tathar – Tathar?" Estel stopped inside the study door and turned to beckon to Legolas, still frozen outside in the hall. Legolas took a deep breath and forced himself to move into the room.

"I'm here. My lord -" He bowed to Elrond who sat comfortably at a large, heavy desk that took up most of the small study. Glorfindel sat perched on an edge of the desk, a sheath of papers clutched in one hand and a pen in the other, looking more like a librarian for the moment than a mighty warrior. Legolas bowed to him in turn before giving his attention once more to the Lord of Imladris.

"Welcome, Tathar," Elrond said. "You've been scarce, too, of late. Your keepers were concerned about your absence this afternoon, until they discovered you were with Estel."

"Though I can't imagine why that would relieve their anxiety," Glorfindel interjected with a snort.

Elrond motioned to several straight-backed chairs arrayed about the desk. "Please, have a seat." Estel took one and stared pointedly at Legolas who, with obvious reluctance, chose another. Elrond leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers, reminding Legolas of his father right before he made a decision that would affect Legolas in all manner of painful ways. But this was Lord Elrond of Imladris, not Thranduil of Mirkwood. Surely, things had a chance of being different, didn't they?

"Ada, we are here because we have heard rumours that several blond hairs were found in Templa's foal's stall and that Tathar has been accused of letting the horses loose, again."

Elrond drummed his fingers together as he observed them both. "Yes. That is what they are saying."

"Of course, you know it isn't true."

The fingers stopped their drumming. "I know what is not true, Estel?"

"You know what they say is all lies! Tathar had nothing to do with this."

"Now Estel," Elrond corrected. "You cannot say that. I'm afraid that you do not have all of the facts."

Legolas felt a shiver run down his spine. Elrond's words were hardly dismissive of the accusation. After all Legolas had gone through to compete, he would not lose his chance because of something he had not done. There was plenty that he had done that they might expel him for, but not this! He swallowed his fear and sat up straight in his chair. "Lord Elrond, sir, those are not my hairs. Please, you cannot believe this."

Elrond turned his thoughtful gaze on Legolas, a gentle smile on his lips. "But, _penneth_, they _are_ your hairs."

Legolas felt the air leave his lungs and he gasped. Before he could overcome his shock and speak, Estel cried out. "Ada! You cannot believe that!"

"But I do, Estel. I believe it because it is the truth," Elrond responded, his eyes never wavering from Legolas's face.

"I swear to you, Lord Elrond, I did not –" The Imladrin lord raised his hand to stop Legolas in mid sentence.

"Hush, now. You misunderstand me."

"But, I've never been in that stall in my life, my lord, I –" Again, Elrond's hand shot up.

"You did nothing wrong, my child. Please, you are in no trouble. Not from me, at any rate." Legolas shared a quick look with Estel.

"But you just said that the hairs in the stall belonged to Tathar," Estel said.

Elrond glanced at his son. "I did _not_ say that they were Tathar's hairs in the stall," he replied.

Legolas frowned at Lord Elrond in confusion. "My lord?" Piercing grey eyes swivelled back to Legolas and the young Elf felt the weight of thousands of years of insight weighing down upon him.

"I did not say they were Tathar's hairs in the stall," Elrond repeated "I said they were yours."

Legolas gulped. He knew he should never have entered this room, never should have given Elrond another chance to see him up close and in good light. "My lord, I can explain…," Glorfindel covered the lower half of his face with the papers still clutched in his hand and Legolas was certain he heard a chuckle. His eyes flicked to the blond warrior and his suspicions were confirmed – he might cover his mouth but the warrior's eyes were definitely full of mirth, though Legolas could see nothing funny in the situation. He saw, instead, his imminent demise.

"I am not the one you will need to be explaining to," Elrond said.

Legolas sighed, accepting the inevitable. "No, my lord."

Elrond stood and leaned across the desk, his arm extended. "It is my pleasure to finally meet you, Legolas. I cannot tell you how pleased I am that you are Thranduil's blessed child and not that - that - well, it would be ungracious of me to say more." Legolas stood too, though shakily, and grasped the offered arm in greeting, a warm greeting it turned out as Elrond pulled him into an impromptu hug. "You are so much like your _naneth_, _penneth_, it gives me chills." He let go and Legolas found his arm grasped by Glorfindel's, in turn, who clasped it eagerly as if they were meeting for the first time, which Legolas supposed, in one sense they were. His arm was released at last and Elrond motioned him back into his seat, which he was more than happy to retake.

"Have you known who I am all of this time?" he asked.

"No. I did not, I must admit," Elrond said. "I was far too distracted by preparations for the contest and worry about the injured prince, in my care, the son of a king known to favour his sons above all things in life and who would not hesitate to go to war with the healer who did not properly care for any one of them. And of course there were the Orc incursions into my lands that have grown steadily bolder..."

"He is ashamed, _penneth_, in case you are wondering," Glorfindel chuckled.

"Aye, Legolas. That I am," the Elf lord answered with a sigh. "I should have known you at once, for you are ever so much like both your _adar_ and _naneth_ that there really could be no question. But it wasn't until later, when you were thrown from your horse that I began to suspect. You have your _naneth_'_s_ features and modesty, and your _adar_'s colouring and humour."

"And you have his single minded dedication to a purpose," Glorfindel added. "You want to compete, of that there can be no doubt."

"Aye, that I do." Legolas held his head high and took a deep breath. "And will I be allowed to? I know that I am here under false pretences and yet, I believe I have proven that I am equal to the task."

"More than equal," Glorfindel agreed.

"No one here will stop you from competing," Elrond said.

Legolas breathed a sigh of relief, yet he knew that his trial was far from over. "But what about the hairs? You say they are mine and yet I have never been in that stall. You say that I am in no trouble and yet how can I not be when I was the only one, other than Estel, who had an opportunity to let the horses loose?"

"There was someone else," Glorfindel said.

"Who?" Estel queried. "The stable hand?

"But he is not fair-haired," Legolas pointed out.

"No," Elrond answered. "Someone who would very much like for you to fail, Legolas. Someone who had as much reason as the Elves in the competition to want you to be disqualified."

The two young ones shared confused looks. "I know no one else in Imladris, my lord. I can't imagine who would benefit from my being disqualified, other than someone in the contest.

"Tathar!" Estel cried out, suddenly. "He does not appear to like you much, Legolas."

"Yes." Elrond sat back, a satisfied smile on his face.

"Tathar?" Legolas said, confused. "But he is injured. He could not have done this."

"I told you he would be healthy in time to return to Mirkwood at the end of the competition, didn't I?"

Legolas nodded, slowly, the healer's words sinking in. "So, the fact that he was bedridden was an act."

"Indeed. He has been well enough to get up and about since the first time the horses were let loose."

"But he is not fair-haired, the reason for all of the whispering about my parentage, or so I've been told."

Elrond shot a quick, scathing look at Estel, who sank a little lower in his chair. The young man raised his hands in the air. "He insisted, _Ada_, so I told him but I also said it was all rumour and gossip and none of it ―"

Elrond waved away the plea. "Not now, Estel. We have more important things to worry about. No. He is not fair-haired. But he was brought in wearing your overcoat and cloak and there were more than a few golden hairs on that, in fact, I remember wondering as I folded them both and put them away how they came to bear hairs of such a rich, golden colour – they do tend to stand out. How anyone could not have known who you were is beyond me." Legolas blushed deeply and Glorfindel chuckled again before Elrond continued. "Tathar took several of the hairs and attached them to a nail in the back of the stall. If I did not dislike him so much, I would applaud his resourcefulness."

"I covered Tathar with my garments when he was injured," Legolas explained. "When Estel saw the design and quality, he assumed that I was Ellarian. I – I just took advantage of the situation presented. I did not start off to deceive you, my lords. It just – evolved."

"And if I knew for certain that your _adar_ would not be angry, I would applaud _your_ resourcefulness, too, _penneth_. I assume he had told you, you could not compete?"

"Yes." Legolas stopped there. He could decide whether to tell Elrond the whole truth about just exactly how angry his _adar_ would be, later. There was a chance he could get out of this relatively unscathed. He could still compete and win. He could still make it back home before Ada returned and prostrate himself before his King's throne in supplication, offering his championship as proof that he should not only be forgiven but given a chance to serve as a warrior in service to his country. "So it was Tathar who let the horses out the first time?" he asked, putting off making the decision whether to tell the whole truth until later.

"Yes," Glorfindel said. "And he wasn't after Templa or the foal. They were just a means to further his real goal - making sure that you lost the contest."

"How did you light upon him as the culprit?" Estel asked.

Glorfindel grinned. "When Legolas said his horse was being unusually difficult, I had no reason not to believe him. He has proven himself to be more than proficient at everything else he has done, why would his ability to control a horse be any different?" Legolas blushed at the praise and looked down at his hands. "When I examined the horse and found the burr, Lord Elrond was able to determine what it was."

"It was no burr," Estel said, remembering what he had overheard when the burr had been discovered.

"No. It was a clasp we use to help bind bandages around a wound," Elrond explained. Estel nodded, more than a little familiar with the devices both from using them in his capacity as healer and having them used upon him when he suffered an injury. "They are a small, flat piece of metal with teeth that dig into the fabric of the bandage," Elrond explained, turning to Legolas. "Just like they dug into Harma's skin and held in the same way a burr would affix itself to an animal's fur. I doubt that anyone but one of the healers would have known what it was, once it was covered over with horsehair. It was Tathar's misfortune that I was around when it was found."

"Of course, he had ready access to them as they were used to help bind his wound," Glorfindel chimed in. Legolas unconsciously put a hand to his shoulder where several of the devices held bandaging together about his own wound, snatching it away once he realized what he was doing.

"We said nothing, choosing instead to keep a close eye on him," Elrond said. "Unfortunately, I allowed myself to become distracted dealing with the orc attack which gave him another opportunity to cause trouble."

"Tathar," Estel mused. "I would never have guessed him."

But Legolas could not be as calm. "The mare!" he cried, leaping angrily to his feet. "Tathar was responsible for her death as surely as if he'd killed her with his own hands. And he might have killed the foal too if we had not been there!" Legolas clenched his fists, tightly. "And now I'm going to kill _him_," he seethed.

"Been there?" Elrond's calm gaze turned dark and Glorfindel dropped the papers he still held in his hand. They fluttered unhindered to the floor. "What do you mean, Elfling? _Been_ there." The voice was low and ominous and even though Elrond was not his _adar_, Legolas had enough practice with his own that he recognized the sound and the danger that it foretold. One glance at Estel's face told him that he was right to fear.

"I – we – um."

"We followed after the mare and foal, _Ada_," Estel jumped in to aid. "We were afraid that something might befall them both while in the woods. We did not think that we would have to go so far before catching them."

"Tathar must have helped them escape just after we left to go fishing," Legolas, supplied, innocently and helpfully.

"Fishing?" Elrond's voice spiked up at the end, sending yet another shiver down Legolas's spine.

"I was told by Rissien and Tûrin that you were safely tucked into bed, _penneth_, with a promise to behave," Glorfindel said. "And yet somehow you ended up fishing and searching an orc infested forest for missing horses?"

"How did the mare die?" Elrond demanded, placing both hands flat on the desk and staring down the two young ones. Legolas fought the desire to look at Estel knowing how guilty they would both appear if he succumbed.

Apparently Estel either did not have as much practice as Legolas at being on the receiving end of a piercing Elven glare or simply did not have the stamina to withstand the effects – in short – he wilted. "_Ada_, we – we – met orcs. Not many and we managed to defend ourselves just fine and Elladan and Elrohir showed up and everything was fine. Just fine." He rushed his words, going even faster when Elrond's dark look turned panicked.

"Were you injured? Are you all right?" the Elf lord sputtered as he took to his feet and started around the desk before Estel could finish his speech.

"We are fine, _Ada_," Estel said, jumping to his feet and intercepting his _adar_ before he could reach where they were sitting. "Fine! As I said, Elladan and Elrohir took care of us. Please do not worry." Elrond grasped his son by the arms, holding him still while he gave him a very thorough going over, top to bottom. Once satisfied, he pulled him into a tight embrace. "I am fine, _Ada_." Estel repeated, this time his voice soothing rather than desperate, which seemed to have just the right effect as Elrond clutched him even closer, sagging with relief.

Legolas glanced back to Glorfindel who had not moved from where he sat, still perched on the edge of Lord Elrond's desk. His eyes were on Legolas, a knowing smile playing on his lips that made Legolas all the more aware of the bulky bandage wrapped around his chest and shoulder. But the Elf lord said nothing and soon turned his attention to Elrond who was once again observing Estel intently, the dark look returned to his eye, his lips now pulled in a thin line.

"You were not given leave to chase after horses, Estel."

"No, _adar_."

"You were not given leave to go anywhere for that matter."

"No, _adar_."

"That you survived unscathed in no way changes the severity of your misdeed."

"No, _Ada_, I know."

"You will be punished."

"Of course, _Ada_."

"And Legolas?" The piercing Elven glare rolled over to where Legolas still sat stiffly in his chair. He stood and lowered his head appropriately, in a gesture that combined acceptance of his guilt and a plea for forgiveness, both.

"I will have to inform Tûrin and Rissien."

"Yes, my lord."

"They can decide whether your _adar_ should be informed, as well."

"Yes, my lord." Legolas had kept his eyes on the floor as he spoke but raised his head and turned on the most beseeching look he could manage, one that had, across the years, rescued him from all manner of predicaments. "My Lord Elrond, could you find it in yourself not to inform them until after the contest? They may be angry enough to keep me from competing. I know my _adar_ must be told of all that I have done but if I am fortunate enough, I will be able to tell him as a winner of the competition and that will greatly enhance my chances of survival."

Legolas mistook the uneasy silence that suddenly settled on the room as an indication that Elrond was even angrier than he appeared. Not knowing how to placate or manipulate the Elven lord as he would someone that he was more familiar with, he vacillated over what approach to take – his own father would not be moved by further pleading and in fact would harden his stance and tell Legolas to cease whining. But Elrond had little in common with the Elven king when it came to parenting technique, at least, as far as Legolas had seen up to now. So, he took his chances and - whined.

"Please, Lord Elrond, I beg of you! Do not tell them. I must complete the contest. I think I have a chance to win –" Elrond's hand shot up in the air, just as Thranduil's would have and Legolas knew he had chosen the wrong tack. But what followed was nothing like how Thranduil would have acted. The voice that spoke was not cold, nor were the words harsh, in fact, Elrond's whole demeanour seemed almost – apologetic.

"Yes, well," the Elven lord said.

"Yes? Well?" Legolas said, glancing uneasily between Elrond and Estel who raised his shoulders in a sign that he was as confused as Legolas.

"Yes, well, you see, when I thought you were injured I – I took it upon myself to send a message to your father."

"Oh." And then the full import of Elrond's words hit him and Legolas sank back into his chair. "Did you. By rider?"

Elrond shook his head. "By falcon."

Legolas wasted no time calculating the amount of time it would take the bird to arrive at its destination and a panicked father to wend his way through the forest and mountain passes to Imladris. Not long, he surmised. Not long enough. "I think, my lord, that I am in deep trouble." He hung his head and sank further back in his chair.

"Do not worry, _penneth_," Glorfindel said, firmly. "We will support your participation in the competition. He can hardly refuse you when you are first in the points and not after I tell him of your prowess with Lord Elrond's machine. There is no doubt in my mind that you will win."

Legolas could not stifle a moan. "You do not understand, my lords. I – I am not supposed to be here. At all. My _Adar_ did not give his leave for me to come. In fact, he was most adamantly opposed to the idea." Silence reigned as Legolas's words sunk in. Estel could not know what it meant having never met Thranduil before but the two Elves seated across the desk understood, all too well, evidenced by the grim looks on their faces. All of Rissien's declarations came back to Legolas in a tidal wave. He was dead. Of that there could be no doubt.

Elrond stepped past Estel and to Legolas's side. Legolas stood too and the Imladrin lord put a hand to his wounded shoulder. A wave of nausea washed through the young Elf at the ensuing pain the squeeze he gave it, engendered, despite the numbing effects Elladan's potion. Fortunately, the healer was concentrating on Legolas's heart more than his body and did not seem to notice.

"I will do everything in my power to aid you, _penneth_. Please do not give up. You may still complete the contest before he arrives and we may yet be able to convince him to allow you to finish what you have started, if you have not."

Legolas took a deep breath to give him the strength to speak without his voice quavering and betraying his pain and the sudden weakness that made his knees shake and dark spots dance before his eyes. "Thank you my lord," he said, pulling from Lord Elrond's grasp. He gave a bow, taking the moment with his head lowered to master his pain. "I think I had better get some rest before the morrow," he said on rising again. "I must be ready."

"Indeed. And I will make certain that word of who is guilty of letting the horses out is spread. You will not be bothered with any more rumour, trust me in this."

"Aye, my lord."

"And trust me to deal with your _adar_, as well."

Legolas bowed his thanks before turning to walk as steadily as he was able, to the door. It would be a long night but he had earned himself several benefactors and that lightened his worry, if only somewhat.

Estel joined him and whispered in his ear. "You will come with me first to see Elladan and then I'll walk you back to your bed."

"I am not an ―"

"Elfling, yes, I know. But I am here, all the same and by your side I'll remain. As long as you need me."

Legolas nodded, accepting his help, even leaning on Estel once they were away from Lord Elrond's office.

Dictionary:

_Penneth _– young one

_Adar _- father

_Naneth _- mother


	12. Chapter 12

Standard disclaimer – not mine, no money, just for fun

Thanks to my wonderful beta Sarah and to those who are reading this story. I can't thank you enough too, for letting me know you are out there, either through reviews or alerts or choosing this as a favorite story.

Galvreth – Thranduil's closest advisor and friend

Ivran – Legolas's oldest brother, the Crown Prince of Mirkwood

Ellarian – Legolas's middle brother

Tûrin – Captain of the Mirkwood Home Guard and friend of Legolas

Rissien – Lieutenant of the Mirkwood Home Guard and friend of Legolas

Tathar – Mirkwood's greatest archer, set to compete in an archery competition in Imladris that takes place every 100 years

Chapter 12

Legolas had managed to put off any further questioning from Rissien and Tûrin by falling into a deep sleep once arriving back at the barracks and his bed. They had tried to rouse him but they could see that his exhaustion was no act and so left him alone to his dreams. The next morning, his shoulder ached abominably and he knew he would not be able to compete without more help from Elladan's potion. But how to escape his keepers? He had slept in his clothes and shrugged off the questioning look shot him by Tûrin when he said he did not need to change before breakfast.

"'Las, I have never known you to be so lax in your dress. It appears that if it were not for the help of your servants, you would be a lazy, slovenly mess," the Captain said.

"Shush," Legolas hissed. "Watch what you say!" he whispered, glancing about the room to see if anyone had noticed the slip. The fear that he had been overheard was enough to distract Tûrin from his suspicions. But not Rissien, who arrived shortly after from his bath. He eyed Legolas up and down with interest and had just opened his mouth to speak when Estel, Elladan and Elrohir arrived at the door to the barracks.

"It is about time you three awoke," Elrohir boomed, cheerfully, as he strode into the room and joined the Mirkwood Elves by their bunks. "We have come to collect you for breakfast."

"There are fresh strawberries and cream this morning," Estel said, smacking his lips.

"Can you tell they are Estel's favourite?" Elladan laughed.

"Mine too," Legolas said. "I'm ready. Let's go!"

"Now, just a minute, Tathar," Rissien said, still drying his hair with his towel. "I need to finish getting ready and Tûrin needs to check on the Prince first."

"We'll take him with us," said Elrohir. We'll make sure he gets to the dining chamber. If it is all right with you, we would like to show him our collection of bird feathers before we go. We should meet up to eat at about the same time then."

"Bird feathers?" Rissien asked, his suspicions rising again. He trusted the sons of Elrond, but what could be Legolas's interest in bird feathers?

"We have collected quite a few and are putting together a study of which make the best fletching for arrows."

The connection with archery at once lay to rest the guard's doubts. "Ah, I see. Of course, you may go, Tathar, if Captain Tûrin agrees."

Tûrin cocked an eyebrow at Rissien's last minute attempt to include him, trying hard not to smile at the guard's over-protectiveness. At times, Rissien would overrule Ellarian even in decisions concerning what Legolas was and was not allowed to do. Yet, he would never admit his devotion to anyone, least of all Legolas. "You may go, _Tathar_," Tûrin agreed, emphasizing the name in a veiled apology to his charge. "We will see you at breakfast."

The four escaped to Elladan's room where the older twin once again cleaned and examined the wound. He did not like what he saw. "Your shoulder has not healed enough," he said.

"We have gone over this already, Elladan," Legolas replied. "It will do. It must. Especially now that my father is coming. I don't know how long I will have before he arrives and once he does, I will be going home. If I do not win, I will be going home in disgrace." Legolas shifted uncomfortably on the bed where he lay. "Please. I haven't much time." Elladan bit his lip and helped Legolas to sit. Estel handed him fresh bandages while Elrohir cleared away the soiled ones and the older twin began to carefully rewrap the wound in silence. When he was done, he stood and offered Legolas a hand.

Legolas gazed at it for a moment before swallowing heavily and raised his head. "I thank you for your help. But I must ask even more of you."

Elladan withdrew his hand and frowned. "What is it you need?"

"I – I need more of your – your tea. Otherwise the pain – it will distract me."

"No!" Elladan thundered, folding his arms across his chest. "If you cannot do this on your own…" a hand on his shoulder stopped him and he turned to find Elrohir at his side.

"_Daernaneth_ said we were to help, Elladan. I think that this is what we were meant to do." Elladan growled, looking away to the balcony doors, while he calmed his frustration and fear. At last, with a heavy sigh, he turned without a word and left the room. "He will help, Legolas. Do not despair."

"I am sorry to cause such trouble."

"Nonsense. You are our friend and taking care of one another is what friends do. I cannot say that I understand why you need to do this so badly but I do know that if Galadriel says we are to help, then there must be a very good reason. We will help," he said, handing Legolas's shirt and tunic to Estel, who had remained silent through the exchange. "Here, help him dress. We need to get him ready to go. The keepers will be getting suspicious if we take too long."

Estel took the proffered garments and with a pensive look on his face, took Elladan's place on the bed. Elrohir watched him ease the shirt carefully over Legolas's wounded shoulder and smiled. "You talk about Legolas's skill at deception, Estel, but I find you to be a fitting companion for our little impostor. The two of you escaping from here together, traipsing after Orcs in the dead of the night – you terrify me beyond words."

"Because we remind you of you and Elladan, no doubt," Estel said, moving on to the tunic.

"Yes, but not as mischievous."

"Give us time, brother. We have only just met while you two have had several millennia to perfect your art."

"True, true. I shudder to think…"

The door opened and Elladan re-entered the room, carrying a clay pot with steam ghosting around the spout, in one hand and a mug in the other. He placed the mug on the table by the bed and filled it with the malodorous brew. He shooed Estel from the bed with a wave of his hand, then sat himself, passing the mug carefully over to Legolas. "Drink it all and then I will give you another cup. You will need all of the help you can get today, I think."

Legolas swallowed the drink in one gulp, without complaint, though it tasted like hot vinegar, and held the cup out for a refill. The second dose was harder to stomach, now that he knew what was coming, and the smell, too, began to assault his senses, the acrid steam causing his eyes to water. It took him several attempts to get it all down. By the time he had finished, his face was flushed and his stomach was doing somersaults.

"Good," Elladan said, taking the empty cup in hand. "And now if you are up to it, we had best go. I saw Rissien and Tûrin entering the dining chamber on my way back from the healing wing.

"Aye. You had better hurry before they become any more suspicious than they already are," Elrohir said.

Estel reached out a hand to help Legolas up from the bed, grasping the Elf about the waist when he sagged from the effort. Elladan and Elrohir exchanged knowing looks behind the Prince's back.

"You go on Estel. We'll be right behind you," said Elrohir. "Keep hold of him. He doesn't look like that second cup went down as easily as the first."

"I have him," Estel answered, tightening his hold on Legolas's waist. "Yes, yes, I know you don't need help but you're getting it anyway," he said, the tone of his voice brooking no argument. He turned back to glance at his brothers, his storm grey eyes clouded with worry.

After they had gone, Elladan, too, rose from the bed. "I have just the tiniest inkling of what Galadriel saw," he said to his twin.

"Oh?"

"Those two," he answered, his head nodding toward the empty doorway. "They have become very close in a short period of time. They seem comfortable together and protective of each other. It remains to be seen if they take each other's counsel, but they do seem to care very much for one another."

"Yes, I agree. Estel worries over Legolas like I've never seen him do before with anyone and Legolas was willing to risk his life to save Estel, admirable behaviour between warriors and fellow soldiers but Legolas is no warrior and they are not even of the same race much less kin or countrymen. You think they are destined to be friends?"

"Aye. Perhaps more than just friends."

"Well, our little brother rarely does anything without putting all of himself into it. Shall we go see what this day will bring?"

Legolas dragged his feet all through breakfast, not anxious to arrive at the archery field too early. He did not want to waste any shots practicing, not certain how many he might have in him. The drug Elladan had given him had already taken affect and he felt a gentle hum flowing through his body. He hoped it would keep the pain at bay even once he began to use the damaged muscles in his shoulder, but he had no choice whether it did or it didn't – he would still have to perform.

Estel on the other hand, tarried for quite a different reason. He could not put aside his worry over his friend and had seen the looks shared between his brothers. He would know what it was they were thinking. He hung back as Legolas, Tûrin and Rissien excused themselves to get ready for the contest, holding both Elladan and Elrohir by the arms as they attempted to follow. "What is it you know," he asked when the others were out of earshot.

Elladan quirked an eyebrow. "Know?"

"Yes. You two are either conspiring about something or you are keeping something from me. If it has to do with Legolas and this contest, or his health, I want to be told the truth."

Elrohir nodded at his brother and Elladan sat back down to his place at the table. Elrohir and Estel returned to their seats, as well. "I believe Estel – _Aragorn_ – that Galadriel was referring to something that Legolas would do for you, in your future when she asked us to aid him. It might be simply that you two will be friends and support each other."

"That we are and I think we already do."

Elladan smiled. "Yes, I think you do, too. You have grown very close in a short period of time. And given a chance, you might grow closer still. Doesn't that surprise you? That you would feel as you do about someone you have only just met?"

Estel nibbled at his bottom lip while he considered the question. "I – I like him. I like how he thinks and acts. He is humorous and can be silly but then in the same breath he can be quite serious about things. He is also caring and concerned for others. He isn't full of himself though he has every reason to be – he is an amazing archer. He is the son of a king! He turns every female head any place we go, Elf or human and he doesn't seem to notice in the least. He treats them all with the same fine manners and respect no matter who or what they are."

"Oh, so you noticed that too?"

"How could I not? It is rather irritating."

"So you like him."

"Yes. And we are friends. So what has that to do with why Galadriel says that he should compete?"

"She did not say he should compete, only that we should aid him. We have given him the ability to make a choice about whether or not to compete. That is all. The rest is up to him to decide."

"And do _you_ think he should compete?"

Elladan glanced at Elrohir and then back to his youngest sibling. "No. I do not."

Estel stared down at the table, his eyes absently tracing the pattern in the gleaming wood. He could not for any reason present, or future, agree with Legolas harming himself whether it was for his sake or even for Legolas's own sake. There had to be another way, as Elrond had stated. They would have to be able to convince King Thranduil but not about whether or not the Prince should be allowed to compete in an archery contest but something that would be even more difficult for the Elven king to stomach - to allow him to grow up, to be the warrior that he so wanted and deserved to be. There had to be a way other than this competition, which might permanently bring an end to Legolas's warrior days before they had even begun. Estel stood quickly and without another word to his brothers, hurried from the room.

Legolas timed it right – he arrived at the field just as the four other archers still in the contest had completed their practice shots and the archery master was instructing them to get ready. Tûrin bemoaned that now Legolas would have no chance to practice while Rissien merely raised an eyebrow, leaving Legolas to wonder if he were perhaps suspicious.

Crowds already filled the seats arrayed behind the archers and spilled out onto the sides, as close as safety allowed. Lord Elrond and the twins arrived and sat themselves on a raised dais, directly behind where the archers would be shooting. Various lords and ladies from Imladris and Lórien spread out around the dais. Rissien and Tûrin were waved into chairs next to the twins and beside an empty seat that Legolas assumed was for Estel. He glanced uneasily to where the judges were seated, taking comfort in Glorfindel's sturdy presence. He did not think the Imladrin Lord would show him favour but he would be fair and that was all Legolas asked for. If he did not deserve to win, he most certainly would not expect, or even want to, regardless what it might mean for his future. He continued to search the crowd for Estel, wondering to where the_ Adan_ had vanished. He gave up and began to check over his weapon, when a hand appeared beneath his nose, bearing a water skin.

"Here, take a drink," Estel said.

Legolas looked up. "I'm not thirsty, really Estel, though I thank you for your thoughtfulness."

"I think you should take a drink, _mellon nîn_," Estel insisted, shoving the pouch into Legolas's hand. Legolas took it and with reluctance, brought it to his lips, his nose detecting the potent smell of Elladan's pain relieving potion. He grimaced but drank, deeply. He handed it back with a shaky hand. "Thank you," he said. "I think."

"Oh, you will thank me later, _mellon nîn_, if you don't now. I can tell your shoulder is hurting you." Legolas glanced around warily; concerned someone could be listening in on their conversation. Estel took the opportunity to grasp Legolas by his uninjured shoulder and pull him close. "It does hurt. Admit it!"

"Of course it hurts. I will admit it readily enough."

"And you should admit too, that you should not be doing this," Estel all but hissed.

Legolas pulled back, unable to keep the surprise and dismay he felt from his face. Estel had been most supportive through this whole ordeal. Legolas had not realized, until just this moment how much that support meant to him - to lose it now would be difficult – nay, it would be devastating. "Estel, please – " he murmured.

"No, it is my turn to plea. I beg you listen to me."

Legolas bowed his head. "Say what you will Estel. I will listen. I promise. I owe you that and more."

Estel took a deep breath and clasped the shoulder beneath his hand tightly. "Do you remember what I said to you, that first time we met? When I thought you were too young to leave alone?" Legolas's brow creased as he thought back to what seemed now a very long time ago, so much had happened since. "I asked you if you knew when you should fight and when fighting is better left for another day."

Legolas nodded slowly. "I remember."

"This is not the time for you to fight. Leave it for another day, Legolas, another day when you are well. I know you haven't known me long, but I feel like I have known you forever. I would do anything for you, _mellon nîn_. I would stand by your side through anything and do whatever you ask of me. But I think the most important thing I can do for you now is to tell you the truth – do not do this!"

The archery master's voice boomed out across the practice field. "Take your places, please, one and all. The contest is about to begin."

Legolas shot the archery master a glance and then turned again to Estel. "Estel, I must. Please, understand…"

"No, Legolas. I believe in the depths of my soul that you are wrong. You mustn't do this! Heed my words. I am your friend…"

"Clear the field. Only competitors on the field!" a soldier announced, eyeing Estel.

With a final desperate glance at his friend, Estel at last turned and climbed the dais to his seat. Legolas watched him as he climbed feeling an emptiness like he had not felt in years, not since the loss of his _naneth_. The surety that he had held since beginning this trip had been shaken by Elladan's words the day before and now, Estel's had sent him careening out of control. He had relied more than he had realized on his friend's support. Now that it had been retracted, he was left awash in a sea of confusion and doubt.

"The competitors will be shooting in order of their standing in the points – last will be first, and so on." The archery master announced. He then called for Rúmil of Lórien to ready himself to compete. Haldir's brother stepped up, drawing an arrow from his quiver and nocking his bow. Legolas turned to watch, seeking that quiet centre that he could always call upon in times of stress, that allowed him to focus on what he needed to do, to block out all else, trying to calm the discord tearing through him. The more he tried to concentrate and to relax though, the more tense he became, Estel's words and face filling his mind.

Rúmil's turn came and went in a blur. For the first time in recent memory, Legolas found himself incapable of focusing. He become more and more nervous with each twang of the bow, a sound that had always been as soothing to him as the gurgling of water in a stream, or a gentle breeze in his hair. Siril of Imladris was next up. Legolas tried not watching this time, to see if that made a difference. It didn't. Each time he glanced behind him he could see Estel and Elladan sitting, side by side, watching him, their faces solemn.

He did not want to hurt or disappoint them. And they had faith in him to do the right thing, to make the right decision. But what was right? Siril completed his turn and Valdaglerion of Imladris stepped up next. Another blur of shots took place. Legolas couldn't have said who was ahead or behind if his life had depended upon it. It seemed only seconds had passed and the archer was turning to stand next to Rúmil and Siril. Haldir came next. Legolas forced himself to watch, to attempt to concentrate. The Lórien Elf improved on his score from the first time they had tried the machine but not enough, Legolas was certain. As long as his shoulder did not give out, Legolas would win this contest and be named the best archer in all of the Elven realms.

There was a sudden murmur in the crowd. Legolas turned back to see Elrond's seneschal leaning close to whisper something to his lord. Elrond stood at once and raised his hand, calling all to attention. "We will take a short break," he announced. And with no other words, he left and headed swiftly up the path toward the last Homely House, his seneschal and Glorfindel following briskly, in his wake. It turned out to be not a short break but one long enough that Haldir began to pace, uncharacteristically – he had always been calm and collected during previous events and long enough too that Legolas began to feel a twinge of pain coming from his shoulder, reminding him that Estel's words held some merit.

He was considering requesting another drink of potion when the crowd began to murmur again. Elrond's dark head appeared on the path. But this time, he was flanked by another tall and regal figure whose blond hair streamed back in the breeze created by their fast pace. Where the seneschal and Glorfindel had had to work to keep up with Elrond on his departure, it was evident that this time it was Elrond hurrying to keep pace with the Elf at his side. No, not just Elf but King, noble and mighty King. Furious King was more like it, Legolas thought as he caught sight of his _adar_'s flushed face. He had never seen him look so angry.

Dictionary:

_Daernaneth - _grandmother

_mellon nîn – _my friend

_Penneth _– young one

_Adar _- father

_Naneth _– mother

Anon – Thank you so much for your wonderful review! I'm so glad you like my take on Legolas – I wanted him to be young and innocent but definitely not girly. And, oh, yes – I would be hoping for Ellarian to be at the least accompanying dear old dad if I were Legolas – he's going to need someone on his side – a lot of someone's I would think! We're going to find out just what it means to have hell to pay. Thank you again so very much for your support – it really means the world to know that people are reading and enjoying!


	13. Chapter 13

Standard disclaimer – not mine, no money, just for fun

Thanks to my wonderful beta Sarah and to those who are reading this story. I can't thank you enough too, for letting me know you are out there, either through reviews or alerts or choosing this as a favorite story.

Galvreth – Thranduil's closest advisor and friend

Ivran – Legolas's oldest brother, the Crown Prince of Mirkwood

Ellarian – Legolas's middle brother

Tûrin – Captain of the Mirkwood Home Guard and friend of Legolas

Rissien – Lieutenant of the Mirkwood Home Guard and friend of Legolas

Tathar – Mirkwood's greatest archer, set to compete in an archery competition in Imladris that takes place every 100 years

Chapter 13

Of course he was angry! He had expected to find his son recuperating from an arrow wound to the shoulder and blow to the head, not participating in an archery contest. Or, better yet, he had expected his son to be safe and sound across the mountains and forest, tucked away in the palace, studying in the library, not in another Elven realm, leagues from home, playing games. Elrond placed a hand on Thranduil's arm when they reached the archery range and beckoned to Legolas to join them. "King Thranduil himself has come to watch you, Tathar," he heard Haldir say as he passed. "You should be very proud."

Proud was the furthest thing from Legolas's mind as he approached his _adar_. Everything he had worked toward, hoped for, dreamed of, was about to end. Legolas swallowed heavily and with all eyes upon him, walked to the fence where his _adar_ waited. He bowed his head and kept it bowed, knowing well that the king would expect that and more from him; if they had been in the palace, he would have prostrated himself on the floor, so great were his transgressions. But here, in foreign territory and in front of witnesses, this would have to suffice.

"Look at me." Legolas raised his head.

"Sire, please, let me explain." Thranduil raised his hand and Legolas immediately silenced.

"You will not speak to me until I give you leave. I cannot tell you how angry I am. How disappointed…" Thranduil gritted his teeth. "I will not tell you now, here," he hissed "But you will know, before I am finished with you." He stiffened and grasped his hands behind his back leaning forward so that he stared directly into Legolas's eyes. "I hear from Lord Elrond that you are in a position to win this contest."

"Yes, sire."

"You have come this far. You will finish what you have started."

Legolas gulped and bowed his head again. "Aye, _Aran_ _nîn_. I will."

Elrond put his hand on Thranduil's shoulder and directed him to the raised dais. Rissien and Tûrin were already standing, bowing low to their King. Thranduil ignored them and took the seat vacated by Elrohir. Legolas's eyes swept over the group now seated together on the dais, stopping at Estel who was gazing at him expectantly. He stepped up and readied his bow. He could feel the pull of the stitches as the muscles in his shoulder stretched but Elladan's potion held and the pain was bearable.

The machine was cocked and with a wave of the archery master's hand, the first ball was released. For the first time in many years, Legolas could not find that centre, that focus that had always given him the strength and ability to hit any target. And yet, he still managed to make contact. It wasn't a clean hit but it would be enough to count. He felt his shoulder flare and he had to bite his lower lip to keep from crying out. The machine released again, and again he managed to hit the ball. This time, though, he could feel wetness at his shoulder and knew that the wound had reopened and was bleeding. But the pain was bearable and he already had two hits. Another ball was airborne before he could think further and he hit that one, too.

Each shot had been messy, far from his usual perfect form, but considering his condition, he was not displeased. The crowd had politely clapped for each strike but by the fifth and sixth hits, they were applauding wildly. Legolas chanced a glance back to his _adar_ to see a satisfied smirk on his King's face. Estel however looked – disappointed. Legolas turned again and nocked an arrow. The ball flew and he again hit his mark. But he could feel his shoulder pull, could feel the wetness begin to soak through the fabric of his tunic. He could not forget, either, that look on Estel's face and the words he had spoken.

Was Legolas proving that he was as young as they all thought - young and inexperienced and selfish? It was important to him that his _adar_ knew his skill, to know that he could better serve the realm as a warrior. But what good would he be to anyone if he did permanent damage to himself while proving it? As much as he so desperately wanted to deny that outcome, the blood and pain were telling him he was being nothing short of foolish. He trusted Estel. He trusted his friend to tell him the truth. And Estel had spoken.

The next ball flew and he raised his bow into the air, tracking it through the sky. He knew in his heart that he could hit it if he released. He could also feel the muscles in his shoulder stretching, tearing, screaming at him to stop. His arm was locked in place as he followed the ball through the air and all of the way to the ground. Silence settled on the crowd to his back. He stood, arrow pointed at the dirt to his feet. He took a deep cleansing breath and then, without a look to anyone, he spun on his heel and lifted his chin in the air, straightening and facing his _adar_. "My lord," he said. "I must apologize but I cannot complete the competition." A startled gasp rippled through the crowd but the sound faded to the background as Legolas focused on his _adar_'s face which had gone first crimson, then as white as a bleached bone.

"You cannot finish the competition," Thranduil stated, the calm of his voice belying the fury that Legolas knew raged below the surface, kept in check by a will stronger than any other he had ever encountered in his life.

Legolas gulped. "No, sire, I cannot."

The king rose slowly to his feet, his anger so complete he was shaking as he stood. Elrond stood too, looking confused, glancing between king and prince.

Estel leapt up and jumped from the dais to stand at Legolas's side. He opened his mouth to speak but was silenced by an imperious wave of Thranduil's hand. The king fixed his son with a stare that was as hard and cold as ice. "You are telling me that you have defied my wishes to come here, that you have risked the lives of my Elves as they have sought to protect you in your arrogance and stupidity, and now that you are only steps from accomplishing that which you have moaned to me about for decades – your worth to me as an archer – you are quitting? What, please tell me, do you think I will learn about you from this act, Legolas?"

A murmur tore through the crowd again, the name Legolas whispered over and over again as all learned exactly who it was standing before them – not an archer from the kingdom of Mirkwood but rather, the King's own son. Legolas nervously chewed his bottom lip, then gulped, glancing to the_ adan_ at his side. He knew that it would only make matters worse but he needed to address his friend, not his _adar_. It might well be the last time he would be able to do so. He turned away from his _adar_ and faced Estel. "I heard what you said, Estel. And I understand."

"Legolas," Thranduil roared. "I am not finished with you –" Legolas turned and raised his own hand in the same imperious gesture that his _adar_ had just used to silence Estel. Thranduil's face again lost all colour and he closed his mouth in shock. Without giving his _adar_ another glance, Legolas continued his speech to Estel.

"You were right. I will do no one any good if I am permanently disabled. It matters not if I have the glory of winning this competition, or the chance to prove to my _adar_ what I can do. It is enough for me that I have proven it to myself. I know for a fact that I am good. That I am the best. That will do for now. And you are right too, _mellon nîn_; I _am_ young. In the eyes of my people I am very young - I will admit it once and for all to you. But I am also wise and becoming wiser, thanks to you and your brothers and your care and concern for me. This is not the time for me to fight. That will come later; I know it, just as I am sure that you and I will cross paths again one day. And I swear to you, _mellon nîn_, I will be ready. I know your brothers think I am a good liar and perhaps these last few days I have indeed become one but this is one oath you may believe. When you have need of me, I will be there…"

A sharp pain made its way through the numbing effects of Elladan's potion and the world around him suddenly began to spin out of control. He could not find anything to focus on that was not in motion and he felt his legs begin to give out beneath him. He reached out to Estel. The_ adan_'s hand closed over his and he was pulled into his friend's strong arms. He felt himself cradled against the solid chest as he was born gently to the ground. His eyes fluttered closed as he listened to the comforting beat of Estel's heart, the sound of which drowned out the noise of the crowd and of his _adar_'s shouting. He snuggled closer to the warmth and safety of those arms and that soothing heartbeat against his cheek, allowing the blackness to take him.

It was Estel's nervous movements on the bed and the gentle hum of his voice that woke Legolas, at long last. He had to fight his way past a fog filled mind which kept him struggling to comprehend the words spoken to him until finally, he could piece together a meaning. He stayed still just a little longer to savour what he heard, though he had to struggle to keep a smile from his lips, which would, most certainly, have given him away.

"_Saes_, _mellon nîn_. Please!" Estel cried. "You can't leave me here alone any longer to face your _adar_'s wrath. It isn't fair! Compared to you, I have done precious little that is wrong. All I did was to aid you in your efforts. _Saes_! Awake for me!"

At last he could keep silent no longer and a low chuckle, sounding more like a growl, escaped from his lips. Estel silenced immediately and Legolas could feel the_ adan_'s eyes upon him.

"Legolas? Was that you? And are you laughing at me?"

"Aye, _mellon nîn_," Legolas croaked and cracked open his eyes. "I am sorry, but I could not help it. You sounded so sweet and so – desperate -" He chuckled again but the gravelly sound of his voice made him wince. He must look a mess, he thought if his voice were any indication of the condition of the rest of him. But Estel looked at him as if he were a precious jewel. A calloused hand reached out and roughened knuckles stroked gently down his cheek. "_Hannon le_, _mellon nîn_. I thought I would never see those blue eyes again, though Ada promised you would come back to us."

"I am fine, Estel." Legolas wrapped his fingers around Estel's other hand still resting on the bed and squeezed as hard as he could, attempting to calm the_ adan_'s fears with a show of strength but was instead shocked by just how weak he was. Estel seemed to sense not only his shock but also his intent and squeezed back, ever so gently and smiled down at his friend.

"I know now that you will be," he said. "But you gave me a fright. Don't ever do that again."

"Of course not, Estel. Never."

"As I said before, Legolas – you are a terrible liar," Estel chuckled. "Here, let me get you a drink. You sound like you could use one." Just as Estel's hand reached for the pitcher of water beside the bed, Legolas heard a sound in the hall.

"Estel, my _adar_ approaches."

The hand froze over the pitcher. "_Ai_! He is the last living thing that I want to see just now. At least not until he knows you are well. He has been hovering like a – a - "

"Like you are hovering, Estel. If you do not wish to see him, you had better leave, or better yet, hide. Now."

Estel eyed the door, timing his chances of getting through it and down the hall before Thranduil arrived. His own senses had now picked up the sounds of the King's steps, which could only mean that he had no chance of making it out of the room undetected. "I'll hide," he said, glancing about the room in search of a suitable location. The doors to the balcony were open, allowing both sunlight and a restorative breeze into the room. Estel made a dash for it, flinging himself through the opening and off to one side just as the hinges of the door creaked.

Thranduil stepped carefully into the room, a look of quiet desperation on his face that Legolas had seen in only a few unguarded moments of his _adar_'s life. The moment their eyes met however, the look vanished and was replaced by a joy so resplendent that it made Legolas catch his breath.

"Legolas! You are awake!" The king was across the room and on the bed before Legolas could breathe again. Both hands grasped him gently, one to each side of his face. Long, slender thumbs stroked lightly up and down his cheeks. His _adar_'s eyes were wet with unshed tears which suddenly began to flow, unhindered down the smooth cheeks as the king released his hold on his pent up emotions and allowed himself to believe the story that the warmth beneath his fingers and the light in his son's eyes told him was true.

"I am fine, _Ada_," Legolas said, pleased that his voice was stronger than it had been when he had addressed Estel. But still his _adar_ frowned and strong fingers stroked through his hair, brushing it back from his face.

"Perhaps. We will let Lord Elrond determine that. I shall go and seek him out." Thranduil rose from the bed.

"_Ada_, please. A moment."

"We will talk _ion nîn_. Have no fear of that," Thranduil said, a slight edge entering his voice as he gazed down at his son. "But only when you are better."

"Please," Legolas repeated. "I would talk now…" His _adar_ hesitated. "I cannot rest until we do, _Ada_."

Thranduil sat again on the bed, this time his back stiff, his hands folded in his lap. He said nothing, the relief and joy that had shone in his eyes only moments before had vanished, replaced with a sharpness that Legolas was more than familiar with. "I have a mind to make you suffer _ion nîn_, as you have made me suffer," he said, his voice sharp too, ready to cut like a knife. "To have you wait for my anger, wondering what your punishment will be." The king had switched to using the heavily accented Sindarin of Mirkwood, which took away any formality or distance from the words. This conversation would be personal. Legolas swallowed heavily and looked away. His _adar_ had every right to both anger and punishment.

"And yet, I find that I cannot." Legolas glanced back in surprise. He found his _adar_ deep in thought, staring off through the open door to the balcony at the sky beyond. "You have frightened me. You have lied to me. You have lied to your brother. You have defied my rules and my will. You will be punished, have no doubt of this, Legolas. But I have also had my eyes opened by this experience."

The king returned his attention again to his son and Legolas was amazed to find that, for the first time in his experience, his _adar_'s face looked upon him with the same trusting expression it held when he spoke with Ivran or Ellarian. "Not only are you an incredible archer, Legolas, but apparently, sometime in the last few decades, you have grown up. You made a wise choice today and you did the right thing. There was no reason to risk your health to prove something to me that, if I had been doing my job as your _adar_, I would have already known." Legolas opened his mouth to protest but found he could not argue with words that he, in fact, agreed with. Thranduil chuckled. "You cannot deny the truth, Legolas. And aside from the fact that you have talent and wisdom far beyond your years, the twins have also told me of their _daernaneth_'s message to them. Now, while I would not place too much emphasis on what Galadriel has to say, there is yet another person who has spoken to me about you that certainly has my attention. I have weighed all of this information as I've made my decision as to your punishment."

Another person that had his _adar's_ attention? That would have to be Lord Elrond. Legolas was fairly certain the Imladrin lord would have done his best to temper whatever punishment Thranduil might be planning. He would not ask that there be no punishment but perhaps, sometime in the next thousand years or so, Legolas would be allowed out…

"Lord Glorfindel thinks you have singular skills." Thranduil said, cutting off Legolas's internal ponderings.

Glorfindel! His surprise must have registered plainly on his face.

"Aye. The great balrog slayer himself thinks that you are exceptional. He came to see me to say that he had never seen an Elf of your few years so skilful and with so little training. But more important than that to him, he had never seen such a youngling with so much spirit, dedication and maturity. He wants to train you."

"Me?" Legolas squeaked.

"Yes. You. And do not underestimate what an honour this is. He has not trained an Elf, one on one, in more than a millennium. He has not found one that he felt was deserving of time that he would have to take away from his other duties. Until now." Legolas's mouth had dropped open. He was completely unaware of this fact until his _adar_ reached a hand over and gently shut it for him. "You are gaping, _ion nîn_. Have I not told you how un-prince-like that appears?" Legolas did not trust his voice to speak, nodding his head, even as it rested against the pillows, instead. "Are you surprised?"

"Aye," he croaked, once again his voice failing him. A frown wrinkled his _adar_'s brow and the king reached without pause for the pitcher of water beside the bed. He poured a goblet full before turning back to his son.

"Can I help to lift you? It might be easier to drink if you are not flat on your back."

This time, Legolas stuck with nodding his head. His _adar_'s strong arm wrapped around his uninjured shoulder and gently raised him. The close proximity seemed to snap something in the king, however and he pulled Legolas into his arms, holding him tightly against his chest.

"I love you, _tithen pen_," he whispered against the top of Legolas's head. "You know that, don't you?"

"Aye. And I you," Legolas answered, trying to keep his voice from cracking. He failed miserably and the tears began to flow. "I am so sorry, _Ada_. I never meant to hurt or frighten you. I know that I have deceived you but I – I did not think that I would ever have another chance…"

"Shush child. I know. I understand. Elrond and Glorfindel and Galvreth have all lectured me until I feel like a child at Oropher's knee once again. Enough! I hear and I understand." He pulled away, holding his injured son up with one hand while cupping Legolas's cheek with the other. "Things will change for you, I promise this. It will not be easy for me and I will fail, at times, but I will let you grow up, Legolas. I know I must. I foolishly thought that I somehow could keep you safe if I ignored the obvious. It matters not what Galadriel has seen in your future. I can see quite clearly _our_ future, the future of Mirkwood, and it will only grow bleaker, more dangerous. I cannot ask of others what I will not ask of my own. I must allow you to fulfil your destiny which may be more than being a Prince of Mirkwood, _ion nîn_, but at the very least, you are that."

With one hand still clutching Legolas at the waist, he reached behind and rearranged the pillows before easing Legolas back onto them. "Now, drink," he said, holding the cup to Legolas's lips.

Water had never tasted so good, Legolas thought as he drank greedily. When it was gone, his _adar_ refilled the glass and offered it again. Legolas waved it away. There was still much to say and he found himself growing suddenly sleepy.

"You are tired," his entirely too perceptive _adar_ noted. "I will get Elrond."

"No _Ada_, please. I really am fine. Elladan had been taking care of me before…" he realized his mistake once the words were out. He had just implicated his friend in his web of lies.

"Relax, _ion nîn_," his _adar_ laughed. "Your friends have all confessed their duplicity and I have forgiven them. You appear to be quite the manipulator, a talent that all good commanders require if they are to get their soldiers to obey them. Not all will be impressed by a title, or charisma, or duty. You must find out what works for each and use it without regret. There are many lessons I need to teach you but first, you must suffer your punishment." Legolas gulped and straightened himself in the bed, just as he would have done if he had been standing before his king. "You will not be going home with me. You will be staying here."

"What!" Legolas felt both pleasure and pain flash through him.

"Yes. Perhaps not a punishment at all, but I hope it will be a touch of one. You will stay here and study under Lord Glorfindel for the next twenty years or more."

Legolas let the words sink in. Twenty years! His _adar_ was right – there was punishment in his sentence. "But can I not go home for a visit, at least? Twenty years, _Ada_…"

"Yes. Of course you will visit. I can't punish Rissien and Tûrin so severely that I do not at least allow them a chance to see their friends and family."

Legolas felt his heart drop. "You will make them stay with me."

"Yes. Until they can prove to me that they can keep one little Elfling out of trouble I no longer trust them with the command of Mirkwood's troops."

"_Ada_. It was not their fault…"

"Peace, Legolas. I know that they were put in a difficult position - ordered by their prince and beseeched by their friend to do things that they should never have allowed. It is part punishment that they endure but also they are here to learn what Imladris has to offer Mirkwood in the ways of battle strategy, weaponry and defence. It is too long that our kingdoms have been divided. This is a first step toward bringing us together again. Once they are comfortable that you are established here and can look after yourself, they will also journey to Lórien and see what they can glean there. What is that look, _ion_?" Legolas had let his feelings show quite plainly on his face, yet again.

"Would I be able to accompany them to Lórien?"

"Would it matter if I told you no?"

Legolas suppressed a grin. "Aye, _Ada_. I will not go against you again."

Thranduil sighed, deeply. "I wish that I could believe you, Legolas. But one day, I think that you will once again defy me and when you do, I will be crushed and exalted at the same time. But know this – I trust in your wisdom and whatever decisions you will make for yourself, whether they would be what I would want for you, or not, will be beside the point. They will be the right things for you to do, of that I have no doubt."

Thranduil leaned over and placed a kiss on his son's forehead, then briefly let his cheek rest against it. That would be all they would ever have again, Legolas realized - stolen moments in a world apart, or in turmoil and he savoured the feel of his _adar_'s breath as it brushed his hair, the weight of the lean body where it rested against his and the strong beat of the Elven King's heart against his chest. His _adar_ pulled away and began to search the room with his eyes.

"So, who was just here? Was it Elladan? That Elf is so nervous around me, it almost makes me laugh. And I do not think it has anything to do with the fact that he helped you to defy me. I have made it perfectly clear that I hold nothing against him. I know Galadriel well and I would rather defy myself than her, on any day, and I am not even her kin."

Legolas stifled a laugh of his own and said, "Perhaps it has to do with that business with _Nana_." Thranduil's roving eyes snapped back to Legolas and his brow creased.

"What business with _Nana_?"

"Well, that - incident," Legolas stammered, suddenly uncomfortable that he might be reminding his _adar_ of something, for Elladan's sake, better left forgotten.

"Incident? Oh, you mean that he fancied himself smitten with her?" Legolas nodded his head.

"And – the cave."

"Cave?"

"Yes – that he and _Nana_ were together in that cave."

"But that was not Elladan in the cave with your _naneth_."

"What?" Legolas exclaimed.

"Of course not. Elladan is ridiculously afraid of thunderstorms. Silly for an immortal Elf but fact – I have witnessed his behaviour myself over the centuries. He would not have gone out in a thunderstorm if he had a choice in the matter. And not only that, he favours his left hand and the Elf with your _naneth_ favoured his right – I could always tell them apart. It was Elrohir. So what would be the incident that I would hold against Elrohir? That he rescued my wife and kept her safe? I think not, _ion nîn_. And, in fact, just between us, I was rather flattered that Elladan found your _naneth_ to be so attractive. I should not be, for I had nothing to do with what she was, trust me. But I was proud that she had chosen me over all others and that Elladan understood what a truly fortunate_ ellon_ I am."

Elrohir in the cave! "Why did they not just say that?" Legolas mused. "It would certainly have silenced the wagging tongues. You know there were rumours after you left about _naneth_ and Elladan. And me."

"You? Why?"

"They said that I was his son, not yours," Legolas answered, a blush creeping across his cheeks. Thranduil laughed uproariously, a sound Legolas had not heard in a very long time.

"You? Elladan's? Have you looked in a mirror, _ion_? You could not be more mine had I made you all of my own with no help from your _naneth_. She provided the sculpted cheekbones, true and the precious, gentle streak both of which apparently make maidens swoon but I gave everything else." Legolas blushed again but this time in pleasure. It was true - as much as he might look like his _naneth_, there was no doubt in his mind that he looked like his _adar_, too. "If I had known, we would have stayed longer and put everyone's doubts to rest. I am not pleased that such a thing should be said about your _naneth_, or you, for that matter. But regardless, it likely would not have made much difference."

"Why?"

"Mortals, _ion_," the king sniffed, as if that explained all.

"I don't understand, _Ada_. What about mortals?"

"Elladan has mortal blood, Legolas, and others would no doubt believe that anything is possible where they are concerned. I do not think that it would have mattered if we had stayed, or what we might have said, or if it had been known that Elrohir was the one in the cave." Legolas frowned but Thranduil did not notice, caught up in his speech as he was. "That's what comes from mixing with mortals. Let this be a lesson to you, _ion_. Steer clear of the lesser beings. Their tainted blood will only cause you grief." A sound, akin to a growl was heard from the balcony but Thranduil showed no reaction, no reaction at all.

At first Legolas was startled by the harsh words. But he knew his _adar_ well. "Aye, _Ada_. I hear you."

"I will go and find Elrond, or Elladan," Thranduil said. "Try and stay awake until I return, _ion_. I need to assure myself that you are as fine as you insist that you are." His _adar_ arose and left the room.

"You can come out now Estel. He is gone."

Estel poked first his head around the corner before following with the rest of him. "Are you certain?"

"Yes, I think I would know if he were still in the room."

Estel breathed an audible sigh of relief. "He does not like me," he said as he took Thranduil's place on the bed.

"What do you say?"

"You heard him. _Tainted blood; Lesser beings_. He does not like me."

"Estel. He knew you were listening."

Estel's head shot up. "And what makes you think that!"

"I _know_ that. Did you not notice that during my chastisement, we spoke Mirkwood Sindarin?"

"I could not understand you."

"No. Of course not. That was the intent. He made certain that you did not know of my disgrace. However, when the subject matter pertained to mortals, he quickly shifted back to pure Sindarin, a language that he knows you understand, quite well."

"Well enough."

"Yes. And how did you feel about what he said."

"Angry. And ashamed."

"He is afraid, Estel. Afraid. That is what my _adar_ does when he is afraid. He alienates. He did it with your _adar_ when my _naneth_ passed, or so my brothers tell me."

"Did he?"

"Yes. I believe he was afraid to let anyone know the extent of his grief. He was afraid to appear weak before anyone – even your _adar_, who was a good friend. Your _adar_ was one of the few before which he might have let down his guard. Fearful that he might take advantage of that opportunity, he chose instead to make certain that he would not have the option – he cut himself off from your _adar_'s friendship and anyone else's for that matter. Mirkwood, as a result, has been insular and insulated. He at last realizes what it has cost him and it seems that he would like to change that, now. But I think he is still fearful. Of you. Of our friendship. Of the Lady Galadriel's message. The list is - expansive."

"I can see that."

"But it is not you, personally, that he dislikes."

"No. Of course not."

Legolas grinned widely. "Of course not."

"Since when did you become so knowledgeable?"

"I overheard Mithrandir talking with Galvreth, my father's closest friend and seneschal, one day. They knew I was listening too, I think. And the rest I am able to come to on my own, now that I am so mature."

Estel snorted. "You? Mature?" He took the knee that Legolas jammed into his thigh in stride, certainly since weakness made it little more than a nudge. "I hear that you will be staying here for awhile to study with Glorfindel."

"So it seems."

"But I will be leaving…"

"What?!"

"Yes."

"But, why?"

"I―"Estel bit his bottom lip and instead of answering, began to work the clasps on Legolas's nightshirt. "We might as well get these open since your _adar_ will not let you rest until your wound has been seen to."

"Estel –"

"You know, I had quite a lot of time to catch up on my reading while you were sleeping."

Legolas allowed the diversion, knowing he would have an answer to his question before he would agree to rest which, if that wasn't enough to move Estel on its own merits, Legolas would tell his _adar_ and he would insure that Estel would talk. "Oh? How long was I out?" he asked, with smug assurance.

"Long enough for me to discover just exactly how old, no, wait, _young_ you are. My _adar_ has quite an extensive library you know and it includes a description of your family, yourself included, _tithen pen_." Estel laughed as his friend blanched. "Yes, _tithen pen_ fits. In Elven terms, _tithen pen_, _I_ am older than _you_."

"Perhaps, in Elven terms you are," Legolas countered without pause. "But you are not an Elf and I still surpass you in years, Estel. If you insist upon calling me _tithen pen_ then I shall be forced to retaliate."

"Hmm." Estel cocked his head. "What about a truce, _mellon nîn_? I will no longer taunt you about being young if you do the same for me."

"Aside from the fact that I never taunted you about your age unless you teased me first?"

"Aside from that fact. Yes."

"Very well. That would work for me, too."

"Legolas."

"Yes, Estel."

Aragorn sighed as he finished with the last button and pulled open Legolas's nightshirt. "About, Estel…"

The End

Dictionary:

_Aran_ _nîn –_ my King

_Adan - _man

_Saes -_ please

_mellon nîn – _my friend

_Hannon le – _thank you

_Daernaneth - _grandmother

_mellon nîn – _my friend

_Penneth _– young one

_Adar _– father

_Ada – _Dad /Daddy

_Naneth _– mother

_Nana – _Mom /Mommy

_tithen pen- _little one

_ellon – _male Elf

_ion nîn – _my son


End file.
